I Am A Stranger
by Cheri Llewellyn
Summary: See new Intro and Update Notes page for this and all future updates! Some new, incomplete chapters, some chapter updates. Wolverine and Magneto, Rogue and Gambit, Hank and Anna, Moira McTaggart, Piotr and the Legacy Virus.
1. Intro and Update Notes

Intro and Update Notes

September 2011

What have I gotten myself into? LOL The storyline has become a lot more coherent. I've added a couple of new chapters and some updated old chapters. However I do NOT recommend going in and reading just yet. There is a lot more work to be done, but it's starting to get really interesting (at least I think so). I'm adding an update because I've gotten some wonderful comments and compliments and I just wanted to let everyone know that I really AM working on finishing this. It's my ultimate goal to make this a complete story with all the blanks filled in. It's amazing how something that started out as a writing exercise has spiraled so completely out of control.

It is my fondest hope that all those whom have read and who will read this in the future will like the finished product. Thanks for reading, and thank you so much for all your patience!

CL

Ok, so I've been fiddling with this story for a long time now, and I find that I really had no clearly defined timeline or idea of what the plot was supposed to be. I've been working with a vague idea, and writing on the parts that I found most interesting. So to those whom have been following my "progress," I apologize.

What I'm working on now is coherence. I know in a vague sense that I'm going to introduce Creed's son as the bad guy here, and I'm going to work in the Mutant plague. I also want to get into how evil and screwed up this guy is, as well as reveal whom his parents are.

I am also going to work in some more about Hank McCoy, his mutation, and his eventual death. I also have a sort of nifty idea about a later story that will take place decades after the events in this particular story. It will involve Anna, and other than that, you'll have to wait and read about it.

I don't know how/if I want to re-introduce Charles, Jean and Cyclops. I need to do more comic book research and then work out how I think a movie screenwriter would manipulate those stories. I think I _should_ work them back in, but again, I'm not sure how.

So for now, all I can offer is an apology for the scantiness of my updates, and a promise that I am working on solidifying my plan for this story so that I can give it some sort of coherence and an end. Thanks to those whom have stuck with me throughout, and as a weak gesture of contrition, I'm going to add a couple of additional, _incomplete_ chapters about Hank and Anna.

Thanks again for your patience!

Cheri

Additionally, if there is anything that you'd like to see more of, or any thoughts or suggestions on plot twists, please let me know. I like suggestions, they get my creative juices flowing, and help me to envision new/better ways to tweak my stories!

Thanks!


	2. Hey Baby, Wanna Wrestle?

She awoke slowly, her body trembling with cold. She sat up and dropped her head into her hands when the world started spinning. She looked around, confused. She was sitting alone in a snowy forest clearing. Wait. Snow? What the hell?

She stood and braced herself against another wave of dizziness. Where was the car? How the hell did she end up in the snow in August!

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and shivered. She then noticed her clothing. She was in high-heeled leather knee boots and a full-length skirt of almost black violet with a slash all the way up to the thigh. She also had on a black waist-length wool-lined coat, so she pulled up the hood in an effort to keep warm.

She was looking for a hint as to where to go from there when a strange growl caught her attention. She crouched slightly and turned in the direction of the sound just in time to see an utter impossibility.

A huge man burst from the trees, wearing furs and giving vent to an odd growl. His strange dark eyes focused on her and she quailed in fear. He had long shaggy blonde hair and thick horny claws instead of fingernails. He stood at least two feet taller than she, and was covered in bulky muscle. It was Sabretooth! But that couldn't be! He wasn't real! He was just a character in the movies!

He stood breathing heavily for a few moments, sniffing hard in her direction. His eyes rolled up in his head and he shuddered with apparent pleasure. A thick plume of vapor curled around his head as he exhaled with a curious purling sound His gaze fixed on her again and he licked his fangs in anticipation.

She felt her heart jump up into her throat and she braced to defend herself. Desperately she searched her pockets for anything she might use as a weapon. _Damn!_ Not even a set of keys! She risked a quick look around. The trees to her left weren't too far away. Maybe she could make it…she was going to die if she didn't.

He crouched, catching her eye and freezing her in place. Faster than she could blink, he was upon her. She fell back in shock and kicked her feet out, catching him hard in the stomach. He made a grunt of surprise and grinned hungrily again, chuckling low to himself.

She stared up at him, scared out of her mind. _Move!_ She screamed silently at herself. _Get up and RUN!_ Her body refused to cooperate. All she could do was sit in the snow and watch him for any movement, waiting for any twitch.

He rumbled a low, throaty chuckle, full of malicious glee. "I like it when they fight back."

She didn't flinch, she jumped. And screamed hysterically. And almost wet herself. His voice was sudden and more familiar than she could ever have expected. For some reason, that terrified her worse than anything else.

Again he rushed her, this time pinning her underneath him in the snow. She screamed once in fear and tried desperately to claw at his face and eyes. With a delighted laugh he pinned her arms above her head with one hand and tore open her coat with the other. She struggled against him, trying to free her arms and legs to fight back. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply, shuddering with that strange purring noise.

She whimpered as she felt his rough tongue along her neck. He laughed a low growling laugh and stood up, hauling her up by the shoulder of the coat. Her arms slipped from the sleeves and she found herself free and staring stupidly at him. His expression was strangely innocent in its confusion. He cocked his head, much like a puppy faced with an interesting new toy would. When his eyes flicked back to her, she was running before she even knew what she was doing. As she made the trees she could hear him howl with excitement.

There was a heavy tread behind her, growing louder and louder as she bungled through the trees. She thought ludicrously to herself that she should be winded by now, but she attributed her burst of energy to adrenalin. As she ran she tried to listen to her surroundings. She heard no sounds of habitation, nor did she hear any cars or airplanes. There was only the empty silence of the snow-clogged forest and the desperate whoosh of air through her lungs as she fled.

As she ran her foot caught on a tree root and she stumbled, turning out her ankle painfully. _Just like those stupid women in the movies _she thought to herself. She struggled to keep her feet and run, but he flew up from behind her. Sobbing with helpless panic, she turned and tried to keep running. He swept her up from behind.

"No need to play hard-to-get. You're _mine_ now," He growled in her ear. She kicked and flailed, digging her nails into his arms, and he responded by biting her savagely on the shoulder. She screamed in pain and faded into unconsciousness.

She awoke to a searing bolt of pain in her shoulder and someone jostling her roughly. Her breath caught as she tried to move her injured arm and Sabretooth appeared atop her. She gasped and held her hands up between them.

"Wait!"

He paused with a frown, his now bare chest heaving. He was covered with a thin sheen of perspiration. Thick hair made a triangular pattern over his chest and down his belly. Bulky muscle rippled beneath his taught skin with his every move. Despite her fear, she couldn't help but admire. He was _ripped._

"Are you really Sabretooth?"

He cocked his head quizzically, and grunted in response as he tore her blouse open. She tried to halt him again, but to no avail. She tried to cross her arms over her chest as heart pounded and she began to cry in fear. He caught her wrists and held them above her head with one arm and with the other, ripped off her bra, tearing the skin on her sides and shoulders. She screamed in pain and he slid his tongue down her neck, between her breasts and over her belly. She clenched herself, knowing that fighting would only get her more pain, and resolving to endure what she had to and escape later.

"Okay, okay! I won't fight you!" She wept. "Just please don't hurt me anymore!"

"Now where's the fun in that?" He asked, bearing his fangs at her in a wicked grin.

She stared up at him in horror then let her head fall back in helpless defeat. He leaned over as if to kiss her. She squeezed her eyes shut and flinched violently when he buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply. His rigid body shuddered above her as he exhaled with a hungry growl against her ear.

She flinched and whimpered again when his tongue licked hungrily down her throat. Impatiently, he slapped her hands away when they instinctively tried to cover her breasts. His tongue was long, and made slow, rough swipes as he licked his way down her chest. He slid his hands up her thighs, pushing her skirt up to her waist. He bit her thigh above the top of her stockings and groaned hungrily when she squealed.

He made short work of her underwear and drew his claws up the inside of her leg, drawing tiny drops of blood. She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut.

_Please God, let it be over soon!_

Professor Charles Xavier opened the tear-filled eyes of the body of the poor, mindless man he had taken over when Jean/Phoenix destroyed his own body. He reached over and weakly pushed the button that would summon Moira to his room.

His mind was filled with the terror of that strange woman who was at the mercy of the brute Sabretooth. He had felt a powerful ripple as she somehow appeared into the world, and had focused on locating her. He finally found her in the Mountain forests between Alaska and Canada, far to the north, and already in the clutches of Sabretooth.

A brief look into _his_ mind revealed a man out of control with lust that was somehow unnatural, and it was directed solely at the strange woman he even now vented it on. Charles sighed and tried to relax. This body wasn't accustomed to being used psychically, and he was limited in what he could do with it. In time, he knew he'd be back to his normal strength, but not right now.

Moira entered quietly, her expression carefully neutral. Charles sighed inwardly. She was still angry about his habitation of this man's body. He knew the man had no mind. He'd searched carefully for some glimmer of him, with no success. Moira wasn't so sure. As glad as she was to know he was still around, she did not like Charles' seemingly casual use of the man's body. Well, making up with her would have to wait.

"Moira, thank you for coming. Something terrible has happened and I need you to contact the school for me."

Ororo Munroe, otherwise knows as Storm, sat in Professor Xavier's office, working her way through the mountain of paperwork on the desk. Things had finally settled down at the school and the subdued atmosphere left in the wake of the deaths of Jean, Scott and the Professor had finally given way to real laughter and normal life for the students. Warren now taught and lived at the school, and Logan had sort of taken over physical training. Hank McCoy stopped by on occasion to make sure all was well, but his time  
was taken up with his work for the President. Some of the older and more capable students helped out with the administrative tasks for class credits. It worked out well for everyone, especially the students who learned better by _doing_, rather than reading a text book.

She signed another paper and tossed it onto the stack of paperwork needing to be filed. She leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh and rubbed her face. The alarm on her computer beeped softly, warning her that her class would be arriving for their Ethics lesson. She tapped the OK button and it automatically called up her lesson for the day.

As she skimmed through, her students began trudging through the door. Bobby and Jones were both smudged with engine grease and she gave them a look and pointed at the bathroom at the back of the office. The grinned sheepishly and moseyed across the room, chattering animatedly about the engine Jamie had fixed. Jubilee, Kitty, Megan and Piotr all entered in a group. She smiled to herself when she noticed that every one of them passed by the Professor's wheelchair and touched it lightly before taking their seats.

They all finally settled in and she sent the video from her computer to the large screen at the front of the room. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang. The students all laughed a little when she jumped. She stuck her tongue out at them and circled around the desk to answer the phone.

"Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. This is Headmistress Mun…"

"Storm, it's Moira. I'm sorry to disturb your class, but something's come up."

Storm listened for several moments and then laid a hand over the mouthpiece. "Kitty, go get Warren. Jubilee, get Logan. Quickly."

"Some of my colleagues in Canada have contacted me about a kidnapping in the north western mountains of Canada, near the Alaskan border. Apparently some local trappers have heard a woman screaming for the past couple of days. The people they sent to investigate have all been found dead: mauled by a wild animal of some sort." Moira looked down from the camera she was talking into and they could hear her tapping out something on a keyboard.

"Members of the local Mutant community made an attempt to find out what was going on and came back badly hurt, but with the exact location of the cave."

Moira's window shrunk and zipped up to the upper right hand corner of the screen as a satellite photo of the earth opened up. The camera zoomed in several times before focusing on two figures emerging from a cave.

"Sabretooth," Logan grumbled.

"Yes," Moira murmured sadly. Sabertooth was leading a woman out of the cave. Her legs seemed wobbly, and she staggered, clutching a fur around her shoulders. "He appears to have taken this woman from somewhere, and he's holding her in that cave." They watched as the woman's legs gave out and Sabretooth picked her up and took her into the trees. A few minutes later, he emerged carrying her. The fur fell and for a brief moment they could clearly see the dark lines of claw marks along her arms and torso, and dark purple marks on her face, neck and chest before they disappeared into the cave again. "I'm sure I don't need to go into detail about her situation." Moira said delicately. "There is no real law enforcement in that area, and there is definitely no one equipped or trained to handle Sabretooth. I thought you might be able to help."

Storm nodded. "We'll take it from here. Thanks, Moira."

Moira nodded and her screen blacked out.

"Son of a Bitch." Muttered Logan

"That poor woman," whispered Kitty.

Warren laid a hand on her shoulder and looked sadly up at Storm. "I'll stay with the school," He offered.

"Actually, I'd rather have you with us," said Storm. "If you think you're ready."

"I'm ready, but who'll stay with the school?"

"Don't look at me," Logan said. "I'm the only other one of you that's fought Sabretooth before."

Storm shook her head. "No, I need you to go too Logan. I was thinking about asking Hank if he could come take care of the school. He's just gotten back from his tour of Europe, so I think he'd be amiable."

They all looked at each other.

"So when do we leave?" asked Bobby.

The team arrived at a spot several miles away from the cave that was their objective. It was bitterly cold although the sun was shining. They checked their new communicators and began the hike up the mountain. When they were close enough, Kitty parted from the group and phased through the mountain side. They waited anxiously and huddled close to one another for warmth.

Logan, unaffected by the cold, clapped his hands to get their attention. "Alright. If Kitty can bring her back, we'll haul ass back to the jet and get her back home ASAP. If she can't, Colossus, Storm and I will draw Sabretooth out so Warren, Bobby and Kitty can get her out. Everybody got it?"

The all nodded and waited for Kitty to reappear.

She emerged suddenly almost an hour later. She was breathing hard and looking green in the face. She rushed past them and vomited noisily behind a tree. They all gathered around her and Storm helped her clean her face with some fresh snow. A few minutes later she had regained her composure.

"I came out near where the tunnel opens out into that cave we saw," She gulped hard and dropped her eyes. "He was in there with her. It was awful. She kept begging for him to stop and let her heal…" She gagged and looked like she was going to be sick again.

"I waited in the tunnel until he got up and left. I phased through the wall and came out next to where he…" She sniffed loudly and wiped her nose with her arm. "She was laying there, crying when I came out. Guys, she's hurt real bad. There's no way she could walk out of there."

The all stared grimly at Kitty, bothered by what the young girl had to witness, and what the woman inside must have endured. It was Logan who brought them back to their senses.

"Well? What are you all standing there for? Let's go!"

They crept quietly around the mountain until they were less than half a mile from the entrance. Logan, Storm, and Colossus angled off into the woods, hoping to catch Sabretooth's attention and lead him away from the cave.

Kitty led Warren and Bobby out of the trees and into the darkness of the tunnel. They followed it around until it widened into a large, open area. Inside they found the crumpled form of the woman they had come to rescue. She lay on her stomach with the tattered remains of her skirt barely covering her backside. Her legs were covered in scratches, bites and bruises: her inner thighs were the worst. Her back was also covered in scratches and bites, as were her arms.

Kitty gently touched her shoulder and the woman flinched violently.

"Shhh," she whispered soothingly, "It's ok, it's just me and my friends. We've come to take you out of here."

The woman blinked up at them, covering herself with her arms. "Kitty? Warren? Bobby?" She murmured in surprised disbelief. They all looked in askance at Kitty, but she shook her head. She hadn't told them their names.

Kitty picked up a loose fur and wrapped it around the woman, and Warren picked her up carefully. They all whirled around at the sound of a snarl of fury to see Sabretooth barrel out of the tunnel. Bobby instantly threw up his hands and glued the raging beast to the floor of the cave. The man roared, enraged, and the icy shackles began to give way Bobby redirected his focus, and a wall of ice formed between them.

They all clearly heard when Sabretooth broke free. He hurled himself against the wall of ice. Huge cracks spider webbed across the face of the ice with a sound like tree trunks snapping. They all flinched back involuntarily and stared at one another, frightened by his rage. Bobby's wall wasn't going to hold.

Kitty looked around desperately. "Which way would you say the entrance to the tunnel is?"

Bobby looked around and pointed. "That way. Why?"

"Warren you hold on to her, Bobby, you hold on to me. Whatever you do, don't let go."

She glanced back and saw that Sabretooth was about to break through. She focused on her power and ran them straight into and through the mountain. They ran for what seemed hours and came out of the mountain shockingly suddenly.

They all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Bobby, having phased with Kitty before, had been somewhat prepared for the experience. Warren and the woman they'd rescued, however, hadn't and they were panting from the shock of it.

Kitty staggered away from them, and fell to her knees in the snow. She gasped and shook from the stress of phasing them all for so long. Bobby knelt beside her and laid an arm around her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" he asked

She nodded and sucked in a deep breath. "I'm gonna be sore in the morning."

Bobby smiled and squeezed her shoulder. "C'mon, we have to get going before…"

An earsplitting roar shattered the air and from the tunnel entrance, Sabretooth charged them. Bobby moved to throw another wall of ice at him, but Sabretooth was tackled by a gleaming Colossus. The enraged Mutant backhanded the young man, and he was thrown backwards into the trees. Logan burst out of the trees near them and stood sniffing the air suspiciously. He saw the woman in Warren's arms and rushed over, smelling something. His eyes were glued on her and she murmured his name in disbelief.

Seemingly unaware of their situation, he touched her face gently. "Are you alright?"

Warren tightened his hold on her and glared at Logan. "I've got her." He said angrily.

The two glared at each other until Kitty Screamed for Colossus. They seemed to return to their senses and remember the business at hand.

"Angel! Get her out of here! Everyone else, back to the Jet!" Logan ordered, his blades extending instantly.

Warren leapt into the air and winged away, carrying away Sabretooth's victim. The jet was miles away, and before long his frozen wings and muscles began to tire. Overhead an out-of-place thunderstorm began brewing, so he gratefully descended into the trees to avoid getting accidentally electrocuted by Storm's temper.

He sat down against a tree and gently wrapped his wings around the both of them to keep them warm. His arms were beginning to burn from carrying her, but with a few minutes' rest he'd be able to carry her the rest of the way on foot.

She lay sleeping in his arms and he felt a strange possessiveness for her. He shook his head and pushed aside the urge to caress her face. This woman was a stranger. What the hell was he thinking?

He shrugged it aside and touched the communicator on his ear. "Bobby what's the status?"

"We're on our way back! Storm blasted him with a few zillion bolts of electricity and it knocked him out."

"Angel! Where are you?" Yelled Logan.

"Not far from the jet. I couldn't carry her the whole way, My wings are too cold. I'm about a quarter of a mile away."

"Stay there," Panted Piotr. "I will come and carry her the rest of the way. Turn on your locator."

Warren pushed aside a momentary surge of irritation. "Copy that. Locator on." He flipped the switch on his communicator and sat back to wait for the others.

Minutes later, Logan and Colossus came crashing through the trees. Colossus scooped the woman up in his arms and Logan helped Warren to his feet. At that moment, Sabretooth's newly enraged howl could be heard echoing off the surrounding mountains. They broke and ran for the jet.


	3. Wake Up and Smell the Paradox

The woman lay on a gurney in the basement of the mansion, her wounds cleaned and dressed. All the instruments said she was in good shape, despite her appearance, and she would recover fully in a week or so.

Dr. Henry McCoy stood at her bedside, his spectacles perched on the end of his nose as he read from a screen at her bedside. He tapped in some information, and read some rather strange but interesting test results.

"Fascinating," He muttered.

"Talking to yourself again, furball?" Logan asked mockingly as he and Ororo entered the room.

McCoy just smiled at them and took off his glasses. "First, allow me to ask you both a few questions."

"Go ahead," Ororo said, sitting next to the gurney and gently taking the woman's hand.

"When you came in, did either of you notice a strange scent in the air?"

She frowned. "No, Logan did you?"

"Yeah." He said testily as he leaned against the wall. "So?"

"Aah." McCoy said with a slight smile. "And did you also notice an irresistible attraction to the young lady here? Any feelings of inexplicable aggression towards me?"

Logan shifted uncomfortably and McCoy nodded. "As I thought."

"And the punch line is…" Storm asked.

McCoy tucked his glasses into his breast pocket and held up the printout of her test results. "I noticed the same scent when I walked in today, and I experienced an uncomfortable and somewhat embarrassing physical reaction to it." He glanced at Logan who shifted uncomfortably again.

Storm snorted and rolled her eyes. "Boys." She said disgustedly

McCoy cleared his throat and continued. "Curious as to what would cause such a…reaction…I ran a few scans and tested the air. Apparently, our guest here is not a Mutant per se, however her body has certain organs that have _mutated_ in and of themselves.

It appears to be a form of Chimerism, where one body holds organs with two distinct sets of genetic signatures. This is the first case I've heard of where it was a cross between genes with and without the Mutant X gene. There's never been anything like this before. The research to be done…This will have a tremendous impact in the Medical and Scientific communities. It's absolutely fascinating!"

He glanced up and noticed that he was losing his audience. He cleared his throat and continued. "In short, the mutated organs are functioning at a much higher level than the rest of her body, creating an overflow that her body is unable to keep up with. In order to protect itself, her lymphatic system is funneling everything out through her sweat glands.

"In her case, the mutated organs appear to be related to the reproductive, and some of the endocrine systems. The end result is an elevated pheromone level. Her body is quite literally throwing off pheromones and they are infused in the air around her."

He put down the papers and sat, rubbing his eyes. "It appears to only affect mutant males, and some, like Myself, Logan, and – obviously – Sabretooth are more susceptible to them due to our," He tapped at his nose. "Highly developed sense of smell."

Storm chewed worriedly at her bottom lip. "This is going to make life interesting around here." She took a deep breath and sighed. "So what do we do?"

"Well, we have to wait until she is better, and then we can find out where she's from and so forth. In the meantime, her visitors will have to be limited to those whom won't be affected by her…gift." He sighed and picked up his suit coat. "I'm sorry to have to leave so soon, but I can't stay. I won't be available for a few weeks. I've been called back to Washington."

He glanced sadly at the woman on the gurney. "Her physical wounds are limited to what you see, her psychological wounds however, will take much longer to heal." He stopped and in spite of himself, touched her cheek gently. Catching himself, he cleared his throat and headed for the door. "I need to leave before my nose gets me into trouble. I would suggest asking Warren to speak to his father about developing an inhibitor of sorts. Be sure to ask Jimmy if he'd like to help."

He paused to shake hands with Logan and embrace Storm fondly. "I'll be back as soon as I can, to see how things are going."

They all looked at their "guest" and then looked at one another worriedly.

The first thing she became aware of was a soft beeping sound. The next thing she noticed was that her body didn't hurt as much as it had. She tried opening her eyes and was rewarded with a blinding light directly above her. She winced and squeezed her eyes shut. The light clicked off and she peeked through squinted eyelids. She looked around carefully and saw another of those impossibilities that seemed to be cropping up so often recently.

"Logan?"

He looked down at her, frowning. "How do you know us?"

She tried to sit up and grunted with pain when her stiffened wounds tried to pull themselves open. Logan stepped forward and carefully helped her to sit up. She stopped to take a few breaths and gingerly scootched herself into a better sitting position. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you." She smiled crookedly up at him. "You're a lot beefier in person, you know that?"

"What?"

They all stood staring at her in disbelief. "I told you you wouldn't believe me." She scowled.

"You have to admit that it's a little out there," Storm said incredulously.

Anna shook her head and heaved an exasperated sigh. An idea formed in her mind. It as a little mean, but it would probably work. She only hoped she didn't freak them out or piss them off.

She looked up at Storm. "The first time you met up with Sabretooth he slammed you up against the ticket window at the train station and drew a claw down the side of your face."

Storm turned pale and stared at her.

"He got right up in your face and said 'Scream for me.'"

Storm put a hand over her mouth and gasped.

Anna looked at Logan. "'You would die for them?'" His eyes were stricken and he swallowed hard. He turned his face away from her and, stared out the window with his jaw clenched.

"Warren, the day your father found out that you were a mutant, you were in the bathroom, desperately trying to remove your wings. You were just a child."

Warren stared at her as the color drained from his face. He lowered his eyes and would not look at her again.

The silence stretched out for several tense minutes. She felt like a jerk doing this to them. Especially to Logan. "I'm sorry guys, for dredging these memories up, but I can't think of any other way to prove that I'm telling the truth." She stood up and crossed to Logan. She laid a hand on his arm apologetically. "I'm especially sorry to you, Logan. It was a low blow to use that. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

He glanced over at her and glanced away. She stroked his shoulder comfortingly and left him in peace.

"How do we know that you're really whom you say you are?" demanded Storm. "How do we know that this is not some elaborate trick to get you into our home and trust?"

Anna threw her head back and gave vent to a frustrated yell. "Yes, Ororo, I deliberately planted myself where Sabretooth would find me, and let him brutalize me repeatedly every day for almost a _week_, with no way of contacting _anyone_ for help because I _knew_ that all according to my devious plan, you guys would somehow miraculously find out what was going on and come rescue me!" She glared at them as if daring them to contradict her.

They all glanced at one another uncomfortably and sighed. Anna wrapped her arms around herself and took a calming breath.

"I'm sorry." She muttered. "I just really miss my kids." She rubbed her arms and took a shuddering breath. "Look. I don't know how the hell I got here, so I've got no idea how to get back. I'm fairly sure that I don't exist here, and the same probably goes for everyone and everything I have ever known or loved. I'm just a little out of sorts."

Logan took a deep breath and shook his head vigorously. "Ugh. I need to get out of this room." He said looking pointedly at Storm. He strode purposefully out of the room muttering something about a cold shower.

Anna stared after him, biting her lower lip. "I really messed up, didn't I? I shouldn't have said what I did."

Storm stood staring after him with her arms crossed. "No, it's not that." She sighed and faced Anna. "While you were unconscious, we had a friend visiting from Washington who noticed something when he came into your room. He ran some tests."

"Wait, do you mean Dr. McCoy?" Anna asked intently.

"Yeah, how did you…never mind." Storm sat down and told her about Hank's findings and their resulting predicament.

Anna frowned. "So that's why Logan left?" She asked blushing.

Storm nodded and they both laughed. Warren excused himself and fled with their laughter trailing behind him.


	4. Marie's Gambit

The air was crisp and clean-smelling as Rogue stepped outside. She took a deep breath and smiled to herself. She had just spoken to a newly-emerged mutant child and her family about the Xavier institute, and could already feel the relief the family felt, just knowing that there were other families in the same unique situation as they were.

The early evening sky was clear, and a pleasant breeze blew through her hair, cooling the back of her neck. It was getting a little late, but the evening weather looked promising, so she decided to walk back to her hotel.

She pulled the apartment building's security door shut behind her and headed down the sidewalk. She let her mind wander as she walked. Things had been strange since she'd gone to Worthington labs and gotten "The Cure." It was almost like it was before her powers first appeared. Before Cody…She shook her head mentally skipped over that painful memory.

The other students at Xavier's had been a lot more understanding than she had expected them to be though none had chosen "The Cure" like she had. She had been welcomed back with open arms, and no one begrudged her that decision.

Her reclaimed freedom to have physical contact had changed her in some ways. She had been so reserved before. Not necessarily out of shyness, but more in an attempt to protect people from her power. Now that that burden had been lifted from her shoulders, she felt free as a bird. She had missed being able to touch people, to feel the texture of their hands, or their face, and now she found herself constantly reaching out to take someone's hand or touch their faces, just for the pure joy of it. She'd even had Pete take on his metal skin just so she could see what it felt like.

Bobby, unfortunately, wasn't as understanding of her decision. He had taken her decision to get "The Cure" personally, as if she distained being a mutant, and as an extension, him. He thought she had turned against him, just as his parents had. Add in her desire to touch everyone and it all seemed to cement in his mind her dismissal of him.

She had tried to reassure him, but it was no use. He had broken up with her and turned his back on her within a few months. She had been broken hearted about it for a long time, and had finally agreed to help scout new students for the school, as a way to distract her from her problems with Bobby.

A twinge in her left foot brought her back to the present. She winced, realizing that the hotel was a little farther away than she'd thought, and she wasn't exactly wearing the shoes for a long walk. She rummaged around in her pocket for the street map she'd bought the day before, and moved up against a building to get her bearings.

As she studied the map, she realized that she had a way to go yet. In order to get to where she wanted to go, she'd have to follow the street a fair distance, make a left, follow a long block, and make another left, followed by a lot more walking.

She groaned as she considered trying to hail a cab. She hadn't even seen one on this street. She wasn't really far away from the hotel, she was just on the wrong side of the buildings fronting it. She glanced ahead and saw an opening to an alley. Maybe she could cut through the alleys between buildings and save the cab fare.

With a glance at the darkening sky, she shrugged her shoulders and hurried through.

Though the sky was still light, the cramped alley was very dark and cold. The clicking of her heels echoed abnormally loudly off the surrounding walls. It wasn't long before she realized that she wasn't going to make it straight through. The alley ended and split off to the left and right. She stood for a moment, and could hear street sounds from the right.

She followed that alley around until it let out into a cramped street between the buildings. To either side rose blank walls, broken only by windows a couple stories up with old fire escapes, and an occasional loading bay door. To the left, the street was blocked by a fence, to the right it led off onto a busy street.

With a sigh of relief and a bit of a limp, Rogue stepped up the pace. As she approached the main road, she noticed several rough-looking men on either side of the street. Too late to turn around, she cringed when they called out to one another. She took a deep breath and pressed on, knowing that they probably wouldn't do anything more than talk a little dirty to her. Maybe try to scare her. She could feel her heart speed up, and she hoped that they couldn't see that she really was scared.

"Hello, hello."

"You lost honey?"

"Maybe she's out looking for a good time."

They all laughed. Several of them stepped away from the walls and moved closer to her. She looked them all straight in the eyes and smiled faintly without slowing her pace.

"You lookin' for a good time, baby? Cuz you just found it."

'Well, we did anyway!"

They all roared with laughter. One of them stepped directly into her path. She stepped around him and came face-to-face with the guy behind him.

"Just passin' through, guys." She managed to say without sounding nervous.

The man behind her fondled her hair and she jerked her head away angrily. They all jeered at her act of defiance. Her heart was thudding so hard, she was sure they all could hear it.

"I don't think she likes you, Tone."

"Thassalright," the man behind her jeered, reaching for her hair again. "She don't have to."

Rogue tried to move around them again, and realized too late that she was almost backed up against the wall. She searched desperately for an escape route. Her eyes fell upon a small side ally just as someone stepped out of it. Her heart faltered as her only avenue for escape was cut off.

He was taller than she, and he wore a long trench coat. His face was shadowed beneath his long, dark red hair, and he carried a staff of some sort. He looked out of place among the rabble surrounding her, which frightened her all the more.

"You know Tone, this city is never going to recover if you and your boys don't stop picking on the tourists."

The men around her stopped and stared at the newcomer. He walked slowly toward them, moving unobtrusively closer to Rogue.

"We just had a little discussion about that what, a week ago?"

The man who'd been fondling Rogue's hair spat on the ground. "Screw you, _Gambit_." He snapped sarcastically. "I ain't afraid of you or your little band of freaks."

Gambit just shook his head and made a rueful face. He turned to Rogue and kissed her hand floridly. "Please excuse their rude behavior, Cher. Perhaps I may have the pleasure of escorting you to your hotel?"

Tone swore and grabbed Gambit's shoulder. As he was spun about, his hand flicked out and sent something glowing red and purple flying into the faces of her attackers. Then he suddenly threw and arm around Rogue, shielding her with his coat, and whisked her around the corner of the building. Half a heartbeat later several explosions rocked the alley they had just been in. Frightened, she buried her face in his chest and clung to him until everything was still.

She lifted her face cautiously, only to have him lay a silencing finger across her lips. His arm tightened around her shoulders, and he led her quietly away. He pulled her along dark alleys and dimly lighted streets, dodging into and through several buildings and finally back out onto the main street not far from the hotel she was staying in.

"You should not go wandering around in the dark, Cher," He chided her with a mocking smile. "N'Ollins isn't a safe place to visit anymore."

Rogue realized that she was still in the circle of his arm. She cleared her throat and smiled up at him. "Thank you for savin' me," She said, stepping away from him. I guess it was kind of dumb to go out walkin' alone."

Gambit took her hand and pulled her close again. "Only if you weren't _trying_ to get rescued by ol' Remy LeBeau." He lifted her hand to his lips, locking his eyes with hers.

Rogue felt the blush rising in her cheeks. He was so charming and handsome. Bobby had never been so forward and flirtatious with her, and well, she liked it. "I guess it's my lucky night then."

"Now that the lady has been rescued, perhaps the brave hero is deserving of a kiss, no?" He smiled invitingly at her, making he heart race.

They were so close, and the intensity of his eyes made her dizzy. _Why not?_ She thought to herself. Sure it was a little out of character, but wasn't that why she was out here on her own, doing the work she'd been doing, despite not having any powers any more? What could it hurt? One little kiss?

"Alright," She breathed with a nervous smile. She tipped her face up and he leaned in toward her. Her eyes slid closed as his lips gently touched hers. Her heart pounded in her chest as she slowly slid her hands up between them, to rest on his chest. His hand slid up into her hair, pulling her in for a deeper kiss. Her mind reeling, she let go, and gave in to him.

There was something dangerous and exciting about kissing this total stranger. He was gorgeous and mysterious and interested in her, which made kissing him feel…electric! She let go and sighed against his lips. His arms tightened around her, and his hands clutched at her. Her heart pounded even harder.

Suddenly, he grunted and broke away, stumbling backwards and falling onto his backside on the curb. He stared up at her in surprise. Rogue blinked, nonplussed. Then she felt a tiny trickle of something both familiar and foreign in her mind, and a peculiar tingle in her fingertips. She stared at him in horror.

"No," she breathed in a panic. "It can't be. It's not possible." She looked at him, desperately denying what she knew to be true; her power was returning.

"That was one hell of a kiss!" Gambit was still staring up at her, his eyes a little dazed and full of surprise.

"I am _so_ sorry, I…" She backed away, needing to flee. Wanting to be alone. She looked at him again, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry!"

Without another word, she spun on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Remy sat on the damp curb, staring after her. He could hear the tread of familiar feminine footsteps approaching from behind. He leaned back and craned his neck so that he could greet her.

"Good evening, Miss Bella. What brings you out into this sultry night?" He asked saucily.

Bella Dona Boudreaux stepped delicately out of the shadowed doorway of a closed store and stood over him, her arms crossed. Her pale blonde hair was pulled up into a French twist, and she wore a pale colored halter top with tight white slacks and high heeled shoes. She was a beautiful young woman, and Remy's oldest and dearest friend.

"You're going to ruin the seat of your pants, Remy" She gazed down at him, amusement quirking the corner of her lips.

"Ah, that is a risk a brave hero must take," he said grandly as he rose smoothly to his feet and brushed ineffectually at his wet posterior.

"That will teach you to go around kissing strange women," She sniffed. She took his arm and they strolled on down the street.

"But this one is special, I think." He leaned closer and spoke in a melodramatic whisper. "This one has _talent_."

Bella looked sharply at him, her smooth brow furrowing. "How do you know that?"

"I could feel something…happening." He said, his eyes softening at the memory. "When we kissed…" He was quiet for a long moment before seeming to come to himself again. "Whatever it was," he laughed "It knocked me off my feet!"

Bella was frowning. "Then maybe it's better that she ran off, no? A stranger with that kind of ability…sounds like trouble to me." She was quiet for a moment and then a sly smile crossed her lips. "So why _did_ she run off, Remy?" She purred with mock sincerity. "Are you that bad a kisser?"

He elbowed her gently in the ribs. "Believe you me, she was enjoying it just as much as I was." His eyes grew momentarily distant again. "No, I think it had something to do with what she was doing to me. She seemed _surprised_ that it happened."

Bella stopped in her tracks, and pulled him around to look at her. "That sounds like bad news, Remy! What if her power's unstable? She might have killed you!"

Remy laughed and threw his arm around Bella's shoulders. He kissed her forehead. "You worry too much. Ol' Remy LeBeau can take care of himself." He started them walking again. "I don't think she's dangerous. It feels like something else." He went quiet again, his brow furrowed as he considered the situation.

Bella sighed and laid her head against his shoulder. He gave her an affectionate squeeze and they disappeared gradually into the evening crowd.

Rogue slipped into her hotel, ducking her head so that she wouldn't make eye contact with anyone. She twiddled her fingers, flicking her tingling fingertips. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she skipped the elevators and ran up the stairs. She could still feel the faint whisper of _him_ in the back of her mind. She shook her head in denial.

_It's not possible. I took the cure!_

Her eyes began to burn, and her vision wavered and blurred. She stopped on the stairs and gasped under the crushing weight of despair and disappointment. Tears streamed down her face and she sat down with her back against the wall.

She wept silently, so that no one would hear. Her entire body shook with despair, and she struggled to breathe through the tightness in her chest. For several minutes she sat there, wrapped in a cocoon of sorrow.

The sound of voices a few floors down intruded rudely on her sorrow. She tensed up; she really didn't want an audience. The raucous laughter and chatter faded slowly as the group descended to the lower floors. She waited for them to leave, fiddling absently with a pebble on the next step.

With a clang, the echoing voices were instantly silenced, and she let out a breath. She gripped the pebble and willed herself to relax. The tingling in her fingers became stronger, annoying her. She was all wound up and needed to release the tension somehow. The rough edges of the pebble scraped and poked at her fingers, and for a brief moment, relieved the tingling a little.

She closed her eyes and focused on the tiny thing in her hand. The tingling in her fingertips grew stronger, becoming sharp and hot. She pinched the stone and with a rush, all of her tension, along with the tingle, shot right out of her fingertips and into the stone.

Her eyes flew open and she stared at the pebble, which now glowed with a peculiar, purplish light. It shuddered in her palm and started to smoke. With a startled yelp, she threw it away from her.

CRACKKK!

The stone hit the concrete of the stairs and exploded with the sound of a firecracker. Startled, she jumped to her feet and stared at the scorch-mark the pebble left on the floor. Her heart thumping, she backed up the stairs and fled.


	5. Take a Deep Breath and

Anna flopped onto the couch in the lounge down the hall from the Headmistress' office. The day's lessons had gone well, and she had a group of students who showed a lot of promise. They had made dinner that night as their first class project, and it had gone over very well. The kids were all extremely proud and eager to move on to the next stage of lessons. Storm had been especially pleased and grateful that Anna had volunteered to offer a few culinary classes in return for letting her stay at the mansion.

She was tired, but a shower had refreshed her, and she wanted to take advantage of the after-hours quiet to listen to some of the school's Opera recordings. She pulled out a collection of Arias and hurried over to the couch after she pressed play. She sat back and closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. She savored each song and hummed along, occasionally singing along as well.

The familiar strains of Lucia Di Lammermoor set her heart to racing and she sang. Without opening her eyes she stood and sang as if she were on stage. She could see the bright lights and the barely visible audience members as they sat listening in rapt silence. As the song ended in an achingly soft voice, her heart fluttered.

The sound of loud clapping scared the daylights out of her and she jumped nearly out of her skin. She whipped around to see Dr. Henry McCoy standing in the doorway with a broad smile.

"You scared the life out of me!" She scolded.

McCoy chuckled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break the mood." He smiled. "I heard you as I came out of Charles' office. You sing beautifully."

She blushed to the roots of her hair. "Thanks," She murmured modestly as she reached out to turn off the stereo. She held out her hand and introduced herself. "I'm Anna, Dr. McCoy. It's a real pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face."

He shook her hand. "Hank, please. And the pleasure is all mine."

She smiled and bit her lip shyly. "Ah, would you care to join me?" She asked, gesturing to the couch.

"Yes, thank you," He said. "Actually, I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions."

"Sure," She said settling herself on the couch, facing him. "What can I do you for?" She joked.

Hank smiled "Ororo just filled me in on your story, but I'd like to hear it for myself, if you don't mind."

She nodded. "Of course. Where would you like me to begin?"

Hank sat with his hand over his mouth thoughtfully. Anna couldn't help but stare. He was so much more handsome in person, and he looked so much more real than he did in the movies. She thought he looked kind of cute with his brow furrowed so seriously. And his body! She sighed quietly. Even a suit couldn't hide that he was in excellent physical shape.

"Your story is so outrageous and improbable, but I can't help but to believe you." His eyes softened. "What about _you_? Do you have family? A significant other?"

She looked away and smiled sadly. "Yeah. 2 boys and 2 girls. I'm not married anymore."

"Being away from them must be terribly difficult for you."

Anna nodded. "Especially the baby, Hannah." She said softly. "She's almost one now." A tear glistened in the corner of her eye and she tried to wipe at it surreptitiously. "David too. He's my second youngest. He's a handful, but he's my sweet boy." She bit on her lip to keep from crying. "My seven year-old, Bella is the one I clash with the most, but there is nothing like sitting in my bedroom and listening to her laugh and sing while she's playing! She kills me every time." She chuckled through a sniff. "And Robert, my oldest. He's just at that age where the girls are starting to notice him, and he _hates_ it when they flirt and tease him. He's a looker, so he gets it from the teachers too."

She felt a light touch on her shoulder and glanced over to see Hank holding a hankie out for her to use. She gave a half-laugh, half-sob and dabbed at her eyes. "Thanks," she sniffed loudly.

He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave her time to compose herself. He gently turned the conversation away from those bittersweet memories. She seemed grateful, but now that he was paying attention, he could see the quiet sorrow in her eyes.

"So where you come from, there are no mutants?"

"No." She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. "The X-Men are comic book characters that have been recently translated into movies. The comic has been around for decades though. It's a hugely popular and rather convoluted set of stories and has branched off into different comics featuring different mutants in other parts of the world. One I remember well features Excalibur. It takes place in Brittan, and the team consists of Shadow Cat, Night Crawler, Captain Brittan, Phoenix and Meggan."

Hank flinched at the name Phoenix, and she slid closer to him. She laid a reassuring hand on his. "Oh, no, no. Not Jean it's…wait. I'm not so sure I should tell you about that."

He relaxed a bit, but frowned. "Why shouldn't you tell me?"

"The stories I know all come from the Comic Books. You all are more like the movie versions of the comic characters, so your stories will be different. In fact, the movies have been very different so far from the comics, but they still carry basically the same theme and happenings.

"So, what I know from the comics could be very wrong, or could end up becoming very true, and telling everyone what the future _could_ hold would be potentially disastrous. Worst of all, I could, based on the comics, foretell someone rising from the dead, and be completely wrong."

Hank frowned thoughtfully. "Unfortunately, I am forced to agree. It's a slippery slope that we'd best avoid at all costs. You haven't mentioned any of this to the students, have you?"

"Absolutely not! I get enough disbelief from Storm, Logan and Warren. No, They don't need to know anyway. It would only make most of them unhappy." She looked at him seriously then.

"There is one thing I cannot, in good conscience, keep from you."

Hank's brow drew together worriedly. "I don't think you should…"

She cut him off. "Eric Lenshire has already begun to regain his powers."

Hank paled and he stared at her incredulously.

"The 'Cure' was only temporary. The mutants who were inoculated will gradually regain his or her abilities. Magneto has already begun to do so. You all have to be prepared."

She could see that he was troubled, and she could see the conflicting emotions over his having used the "Cure" against Magneto. The way his features clouded over with regret gave her a twinge and she took his hand consolingly. She captured his eyes with hers.

"Magneto is a dangerous man. He has let the evil in the world turn him into a monster willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to reach a goal that he himself is unsure of. Using the "Cure" against him was no worse than tazing a man with a gun, or sedating and muzzling a wild animal in a residential neighborhood."

She squeezed his hand and stared earnestly into his eyes. "You are a good man, Hank McCoy. You did what was necessary, and you still suffer for it. You held no hate for the man and you did what you had to do for the greater good. You and the rest of the team are heroes."

He gazed lingeringly into her eyes. "Thank you."

She winked and gave his hands a steady squeeze. "Any time, handsome. Now how 'bout we talk about something less dreary?"

They chatted for a long time about music, books, and opera. She admired his knowledge and sighed wistfully when he spoke of some of the shows he'd seen. He liked the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of the few things she'd seen. She had an easy, relaxed manner that made him feel good about himself. Her compliments were flattering but sincere.

As they chatted, she absently flipped her now-dry hair over her shoulder. A moment later, he was hit by a powerful wave of her scent. His body reacted instantly and automatically. He inhaled deeply and felt a sudden surge of longing for her.

"Are you okay over there?"

Hank blinked dazedly and shook himself. "What?"

"You suddenly went very quiet and growled."

Her scent seemed to tickle his nose tauntingly. He blinked several more times and shook his head. "I'm sorry…I was suddenly…um…" He took another deep breath through his nose and this time he _heard_ the low growl in his throat.

She covered her mouth with her hands. "Omigosh! I forgot about my, uhm, I'd better go so you can catch your breath…or…something," She said, hopping up off the couch and retreated apologetically. "Thank you for talking to me, Hank. It means the world to me."

She smiled warmly at him. His heart leaped at her smile and it was all he could do not to go after her. He sat for a long time after she'd left, just trying to clear his head. He rubbed his face and pondered their conversation. Despite knowing about her "gift," he had enjoyed their time together, and looked forward to future conversations.

He shifted self-consciously and tried to calm down his body's…physical response to Anna's peculiar mutation. Now that the air was clear, he realized why she'd been so grateful for his company. With her mutation, she was physically unable to spend much time in the presence of any of the male students or staff members, and because the school was co-ed, that automatically precluded most contact with any of the students. Combine that with the loss of her children…

He frowned. Perhaps he would speak with Warren's father about some form of inhibitor. He had been studying Jamie's mutation for his own purposes, so perhaps he might be able to add something to the research. His…embarrassment…now faded, he stood and moved with purpose for the front door and the large black car waiting for him.


	6. Control Control, you Must Learn Control

It had been hot and muggy with waves of heat steaming up from the pavement and making everything look wavery, like she was underwater. Marie shrugged her way into her room with a sigh of relief, silently thanking God for air conditioning. Normally she would never have gone out on a day like this, but she had been hiding in her room for three days. Reluctantly she realized that she was just feeling sorry for herself, and she needed to get over it. The Cure had failed. Big deal. Time to move on.

She had gone out to buy some light gloves and long sleeved shirts. Surprisingly enough, she'd found some really nice things, including a pair of flesh toned gloves in a thin, breathable cotton that she could wear anywhere, and she bought several pairs.

She dropped her bags on the foot of the bed and kicked off her shoes.

"Knock knock, Cher."

Her reaction was instantaneous and instinctive. She snatched her bags off the bed and hurled them toward the source of the voice. With practiced ease, she stripped off her gloves and braced herself for a fight.

The intruder swatted away the bags with a grunt of surprise. "Whoa, hold on there, pretty! He called soothingly. "Remy isn't here to hurt you."

She froze. "Remy! What…why are you…How did you get in here!"

He gave her a cocky smile and stepped over the spilled clothes. "It pays to have friends in low places. I just called in a favor with the hotel's maintenance crew."

She blinked and relaxed her stance. "But, _why?"_

He sauntered closer and her heart fluttered at the way he was looking at her. His deep red hair fell in loose waves around his face and his gaze was alive with interest. He shrugged with that cocky half-smile and she found herself suddenly remembering his kiss…how warm and soft his lips were…

"I was blown away by a kiss." He said as if reading her mind. "From the most beautiful lady." He was so close that she had to tip her head back to look into his eyes. "Only a fool lets a woman like that slip through his fingers. And Remy LeBeau is no fool."

Marie felt as if she couldn't blink. Her heart pounded frantically and she could feel her face heating up. She tried to respond, to say something, but she was absolutely flummoxed. His smile broadened knowingly and his eyelids lowered as he reached out to touch her face.

That movement brought her back to her senses with a snap.

"No!" She cried, flinging herself out of reach. He stared after her, surprised. He held out his empty hands and took a step closer.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Cher." He said in a reassuring tone.

"You don't understand," She said bitterly. "It's _you_ who could get hurt, not me."

He lowered his hands and the smile returned. "Are you referring to your…talent?"

She snorted and pulled her gloves back on. "Talent! More like a curse."

He flopped unceremoniously onto the bed and patted the spot beside him. "Why don't you sit right here and tell old Remy all about it?"

There was a long moment of silence while she stood staring at him, desperately wanting to trust him, yet knowing logically that he was a stranger, and one with no compunction against sneaking into the hotel room of a woman he'd just met on the street.

Then he gave her an obnoxiously flirtatious look and stroked the bed beside him invitingly. She couldn't help but to laugh and her will to resist crumbled. She didn't throw caution to the winds entirely though. She prudently pulled out a chair from the table and sat facing him.

He grinned knowingly and lounged across the bed indolently. She caught herself staring at his long, strong legs and at the way his tank top stretched tautly across his broad chest…

She shook herself again and blushed. His grin broadened and he winked smugly. "So," He drawled, shifting his hips in a way that sent her scrambling to gather her wits again. "Tell me all about Marie."

It took a long time. She spoke haltingly at first, then with growing confidence. He listened intently to her story, asking few questions and letting her go at her own pace. By the time she was done talking, she felt worlds better.

Remy had shifted until he was sitting on the very edge of the bed and his knees were touching hers. "So you never really gained control of your powers," He said in mild reproach.

"My powers can't be controlled." She said disconsolately.

"Bull." He disagreed with a smile.

"Excuse me?" She said indignantly. "What do _you_ know about _my_ power? You've known me all of a few hours!"

"Excuse _you_, indeed." He countered. "How can _you_ know anything about your powers when by your own admission you've rarely even used them? How can you even begin to understand your ability when you're _afraid_ of it?"

She opened her mouth to argue, but he reached out and laid a finger across her lips.


	7. Heeeere's Victor

Logan sat in an upstairs lounge that was traditionally set aside for the "grown-ups." The sunlight streamed in through the open windows and a light breeze made the curtains stir gently. The room was comfortably furnished with understated but expensive furniture. There were bookshelves all around the room and they were crammed with all kinds of "literature."

He looked around and made a face. For the umpteenth time since the professor died he wondered what the hell he was sill doing here. This place was too tame. His kind of place involved beer and almost no light, or maybe a decent cabin in the mountains. This place…

_A beer_ He thought. _I need a beer and a nice friendly fistfight. A fight where the whole world won't go to hell if I lose or walk away._

He blew out an exasperated breath and scowled at the nearest bookshelf. He had to admit to himself that it really wasn't all that bad here. Despite being surrounded by kids all the time, he felt relaxed in the mansion. Safe. It was nice to have some place where he didn't have to worry about being cold or hungry or chased out once people figured out what he was.

The kids here weren't like the stereotypical school brats that he'd seen everywhere else, either. Like him, these kids knew what it was like to be different from everyone else. A lot of them had even been shunned by their own families. Even the ones that could easily pass for "normal," like Bobby.

_His_ family had never really forgiven him for being a mutant, though they acted like nothing had changed. The poor kid had given up on going home and instead lived here at the mansion, teaching classes and helping the students learn to control and utilize their powers properly. He was a good kid, and didn't deserve the way the world looked at him.

BOOM!

THUD!

CRASH!

Logan was on his feet with claws extended before he even realized something was wrong. He could hear a familiar bellow of rage. He was barreling down the hall half a heart beat later.

CRASH!

The noise was coming from the wing where Warren's and Anna's rooms were. He flew around the corner and had to drop to the floor as something crashed through the wall to his right and smashed to bits as it went partially through the opposite wall.

He crouched cautiously, and peeked through the hole in the wall. Another enraged snarl preceded another piece of furniture through the wall and Wolverine got a glimpse of what was inside.

Sabretooth. Shit.

Sabretooth howled again and smashed something else. The sound of running snatched Logan's attention and he held up a hand to stop their approach. It also caught Sabretooth's attention, and he whirled toward the hole in the wall.

His glare found Wolverine and he lunged at him. "Where is she, Jimmy!" He snarled as he and Wolverine crashed through the other wall. Logan hit the floor and skidded across the rug with Sabretooth on top of him. They crashed up against a desk and Logan brought his knee up into his opponent's crotch.

The huge blonde man fell back, cradling his groin and then flew forward again, sailing over Wolverine's head and through the window. A huge gust of wind buffeted Wolverine, and sucked away his breath. He ducked, and turned his back to the gale.

When the howling wind abated, the sound of an enraged bellow was fading into the distance. Logan leapt to his feet. Storm's eyes were just clearing.

"Logan what…"

"Where's Anna?" he demanded, cutting her off.

Storm flinched in surprise at the intensity of his voice. "She went for a walk. What was Sabretooth doing in the…Logan! Where are you going?"

"He came looking for Anna!" he shouted over his shoulder as he ran for the garage.

He tore through the mansion, and he noticed the eerie silence and utter lack of any sign of life. He absently approved. These children were smart enough to stay under cover until the all clear was sounded. After Striker had attacked the mansion, they had drilled even harder than before. Occasionally, the older students and X-team members put together obstacles to throw in the path of the younger students, to teach them how to think on their feet, in order to survive an attack on the school. The absence of any sound spoke louder than words that they were already long gone.

Logan rounded a corner and saw Piotr guarding the hallway, sheathed in his metal skin. His muscles bunched menacingly and for a split second, Logan was glad the kid was on his side.

"Keep sharp!" He bellowed as he ran through. "Keep everyone locked up! We don't know if he's gone yet!"

Piotr nodded and touched his communicator to pass on the orders.

Logan crashed through a door, and noticed the garage door was wide open. Normally he'd rip the kids a new one for being that careless, but this time it was a good thing. He threw his leg over Cyclops' motorcycle and had it moving before he was seated. As he passed through the opening, he slapped the emergency lock-down button. The doors slammed down behind him and sealed themselves. As he drove away he heard the other security doors seal up the mansion.

He sped down the road, keeping an eye out for Anna. She'd be helpless out here alone, and a psycho was looking for her. He squeezed a little more speed out of the bike and hurtled down the road.

As he reached the straight away, he saw her break through the trees and start back toward the mansion. He made a beeline for her and skidded to a stop beside her.

"Anna! Get on!"

She balked for a moment, but when she saw the look on his face she hurried over. As she swung her leg over, Logan sped off again, almost unseating her. She threw her arms around his chest and squawked in alarm.

"What's wrong?" She yelled over the roar of the engine and the wind.

Logan turned his head to the side to answer and was interrupted by a loud beeping. He slowed down a little and picked up the bike's cell. He listened for a while.

"Alright," he said finally. "Call when it's safe to come back." And he hung up.

"What's going on?" She demanded.

"Sabretooth."

He felt her fingernails dig into his chest involuntarily. "Oh shit." She gasped, suddenly afraid.

"Exactly."

"So where're we going?"

Logan thought for a minute. An idea formed suddenly. It was absolutely brilliant. He grinned and glanced back at her.

"I need a beer."

The place was loud and crowded, but not smoky. The tables were fairly far apart and the lights were dimmed, but not as dark as bars normally are. Logan slid a ten across and picked up his beers. He glanced around a little suspiciously, but in truth he was feeling pretty damn good.

Anna sat at the table and looked around with a neutral expression. He smirked. She obviously didn't spent a lot of time in places like this. He sat down next to her and plunked one of the beers down in front of her.

She held a hand out in refusal. "That's ok, they're all yours."

He sat back and chugged the first beer all at once. He smacked his lips in appreciation and let out a good-sized burp. Anna snorted and applauded. He lifted his second beer and nodded graciously.

"So what happened?" She asked.

He took a smaller drink than the first and set the bottle down on the table. "Sabretooth broke into the mansion. I found him trashing your room. You can guess why."

He glanced up; her face was white and she looked like she was going to be sick.

"Was anyone hurt?" she asked quietly.

Logan took another drink and shook his head. "No. Storm and I chased him off. We don't know if he's gone-gone, or just waiting-gone."

She sat back, a little relieved but still worried. Logan sat back and took another drink. He closed his eyes and savored his beer. _This is more like it._

"Say there little lady, ya wanna dance?"

Logan opened his eyes and glared at the kid standing in front of their table, leering at Anna.

"Beat it, bub. The lady's with me."

The kid didn't even look at him "She may have come in with you old man, but I think she's leavin' with me."

Logan grinned. Today was definitely his day. He was leaning forward so he could get up and initiate that friendly little fistfight he was hoping for, when Anna grabbed his arm and pulled him back. She leaned into him and whispered for him to follow her lead.

"Don't pay him no mind baby," She said loud enough for the kid to hear. She glanced up at the kid from under her eyelashes. "He ain't got nuthin' on you." Logan frowned, puzzled. She took his face in her hands and kissed him.

He was shocked at first, then pulled her over to sit in his lap. She giggled brainlessly against his lips. He slid one arm around her waist and tangled his other hand in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Logan could sense the kid's stunned silence, but didn't think much of it. Things were suddenly getting good.

She backed off after a minute, leaving Logan's head spinning. "Holy Shit," he mumbled.

"Wow," she breathed. "That was even better than I thought it would be."

They both jumped when the cell phone beeped.

Anna slid off his lap and settled back into the seat. Logan took a deep breath and answered the phone, still staring at her. He vaguely noticed that the kid had disappeared.

"Yeah,"

He listened for a few minutes. "We're on our way." He clicked off the phone and tucked it into his jacket pocket

"He's gone for now. They want us back at the mansion and we'll decide what to do when we get there."

Anna nodded and they got up and headed for the door. Along the way, Logan spotted the kid they had chased off and he grinned. The kid scowled and flipped him the bird. Anna glanced back and saw the exchange. She took Logan by the hand and blew a kiss to the kid with the other. Laughing, they left the bar and headed back to the mansion.

The forest went silent as he passed, the very trees seemed to shrink back from his silent fury. He flew through the woods soundlessly, the trees flying past him in a blur.

_James __has her_. He snarled angrily and ran harder. He lashed out at an unoffending tree, splintering it and sending it crashing down into its neighbors. _James has her._

He burst from the trees into a clearing filled with low bushes and tall grass. He raised his face to the sky and howled. The sound swelled and echoed, shattering the serenity of the night. Flocks of birds burst from their roosts in the surrounding trees, squawking in alarm. At his feet, a terrified animal hurtled from its place of concealment and fled.

Without thought, the mutant known as Sabretooth leapt at the creature, landing on its back and snapping its spine. The animal screeched with pain and terror. He snatched at the pitiful thing, and with a powerful surge of his shoulders, he tore it in two.

It kicked feebly in his hands, its body not yet aware that it was dead. The smell of its blood filled his nostrils and strangely soothed him. He glanced at the tattered, bloody fur in his hands and cast it away from himself.

Revenge. That's what this was about. He remembered; Somehow James had regained his memory.

His heart faltered and his breathing slowed. This was James' way of getting back at him for that whore Striker had sent to control him. He had taken James' woman, and now James had taken his.

The man once known as Victor Creed stared into the night. A sensation he hadn't experienced in nearly twenty years crawled up his belly, clawed its way into his chest and fought to strangle him. Memories of pain and helpless frustration flashed with blinding clarity through his mind, sending uncomfortable bolts of…something… shuddering through him…

He ground his teeth together. He was going to need some backup on this one.


	8. She's Stronger Than She Looks

Bella lead her quickly through the boxes and crates being stored in the old warehouse as the sounds of battle drew closer and closer.

"Alright Marie, The others will lead her through here and I will drop the load of crates from that crane up there on her head. The second she's down, you jump on her and hang on for dear life." She looked back toward the fighting as someone cried out in pain. "She's super strong, Marie, so you will have to hang on for longer than you would anyone else. If you don't, she'll just recover and kill you. Just listen for me to tell you when it's ok to let go. Yes?"

Rogue nodded once and ducked as an empty crate sailed through the air and smashed to bits against the far wall. Bella squeezed her arm and disappeared into the maze-like warehouse.

The sounds of battle seemed to fly closer and closer as she waited. Several times, the cries of the others startled her, making her jump and her heart race. Her training as an X-man made her long to jump into the fray and help the others. She burned with the need to get in and lend a hand. An impatient growl escaped her lips and she could feel her hands clenching into fists. She took a deep breath to calm herself. That was just remnants of Logan talking. She had to settle down.

A loud crash redirected her attention, and she peeked around the corner just in time to see several of the others run by. With practiced ease, she stripped off her gloves and rolled up her sleeves. Her powers weren't back to their full strength, so she wanted as much of her skin to make contact with Danvers as possible. She glanced up once and saw that Bella was in place by the crane. And then Danvers strode around the corner.

Rogue had never seen her up close before. The woman was beautiful and intimidating. Her clothes were torn and scorched from the battle, and her hair was disheveled. As she passed under an overhanging light, the lines of lean, sinewy muscle could be easily seen.

Rogue swallowed hard. This was _not_ going to be easy.

Danvers strode angrily down the line of crates Rogue was hiding behind. She was moving too quickly. Bella would never have the time to get the drop on her! Rogue knew that this would be their only chance. She had to get her to stop.

She took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the crate. Danvers stopped dead in her tracks, wary. "Who the hell are you?"

"I…"

The pile of crates made no sound until they hit the ground, smashing into the unsuspecting woman and smashing her to the ground. Rogue staggered back a few steps as the debris from the shattered crates flew everywhere.

For several long moments, there was no sound or movement. Horrified, despite knowing the danger this woman was, Rogue took a shaking step closer.

The mangled mass of wood and nails shifted suddenly, and a fist burst through, making her jump. The hand waved around and felt around for a handhold.

"Now Marie!" Bella called from above. "Now before she gets free!"

Rogue leapt at the outstretched hand and grabbed with both of hers. The hand recoiled momentarily, its owner surprised. Suddenly, her fist clenched around Rogue's. Before she could blink, Danvers erupted from the pile of debris and had her arms wrapped around Rogue.

Knowing she was in danger, and facing a much stronger opponent than she, Rogue's mind cleared and her training kicked in. She instantly clamped her arms around Danvers' neck and shoulders, pressing her face against the other woman's. The blonde woman's grip relaxed, startled by this seeming show of affection from her would-be attacker.

Then she felt it.

The draw was slow at first, and it took her several moments to realize that something was amiss. But by then it was too late.

Rogue could feel the draw immediately. She could feel the strength of this woman seeping into her body faster and faster. As Danvers began to feel the weakness and realized what was happening, the floodgates seemed to open and the full force of Rogue's power blazed to life and slammed into both of them.

Rogue's heart quailed as she realized that her brief time of physical contact with others was now fully and irrevocably over. Despair washed over her and her grip began to loosen.

Danvers, sensing her chance to escape, began to struggle, lifting herself and her attacker weakly into the air.

"NO! MARIE! DON'T LET GO! SHE'LL KILL US ALL!"

Gritting her teeth and blinking back tears, Rogue refocused and clamped down as hard as she could.

Danvers whipped around desperately, the feel of Rogue's power making her crazy with mortal fear. As She drained more and more of the blonde woman's life force, well beyond the point when she would normally let go, she could feel something…different.

Her muscles felt…bigger. Stronger. Danvers was still thrashing as violently as before, yet Rogue wasn't having as hard a time holding on to her. She could feel the change becoming solid. Permanent.

Then Danvers screamed.

But it wasn't just coming from Danvers, it was her own voice as well.

The sound seemed to resonate from deep within her mind as well as without. Her adversary's struggles became weaker, but the scream continued unabated. Danvers' body went limp against her, and yet she continued to scream and twitch. Rogue flinched as her opponent weakly clawed and bit at her, her voice reverberating off the insides of Rogue's skull.

And their screaming continued.

Rogue dropped her opponent and tore at her hair, trying to block out that ghastly sound. She screamed, and in her scream Carol Danvers keened her horror. A nauseating cyclone of conflicting memories and knowledge flashed and swirled in Rogue's head. Desperate to escape the torment, she searched frantically for something to give her relief.

Her eyes fell on something lying on the floor. She stared in disbelief at her own body, lying lifelessly at her feet. _What the hell?_ She fell to her knees and vomited. Deep red and white hair fell around her face as she struggled to get herself under control. She gripped an auburn lock and stared at it bewildered.

The universe lurched sickeningly and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to stop. She swayed in a whirlpool current of colors and memories that swirled and blended nauseatingly around her, whirling faster and faster until they blended into a void of blackness that sucked her down into a black oblivion that was both terrifying and a relief.


	9. Only in the Movies

The evening was dark and chilly. Thunderclouds roiled overhead, rumbling restlessly as their bellies tore open and drenched everything outside within moments. Inside the Mansion that housed Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, the mood was just as dark. Gathered in Professor Xavier's office were some of the most powerful mutants on earth, and one not-so-normal young woman whom was the focus of their dark discussion.

"I can't stay here." Anna argued heatedly. "I won't put the children at risk like that. For crying out loud, he came _right into the school_!"

"I have to agree." Rumbled Hank McCoy. "The school obviously isn't safe for her anymore. Nor would it be a safe haven for the students with Sabretooth stopping by every afternoon."

"Where the hell is she supposed to go then?" demanded Logan. He turned to Anna. "You don't know anyone here, and you don't have any family to go to."

"Logan is right," said Storm. "Where else can she go?"

"She can stay at my apartment in the city." Offered Warren. "My father bought it for me a few years ago. I live out here now, so you'll have the place to yourself."

"Where is it, Warren?" Asked Storm.

"It's actually just a few blocks from Dad's D.C. lab, right in the middle of the city."

"You know, I think this is the way to go." Murmured Hank. "Sabretooth is not likely to venture into heavily populated areas, and her scent should be almost impossible to detect over the smells of the city."

"Are you sure you don't mind, Warren?" Anna asked.

"Not at all." He said shaking his head. "Mi casa es su casa."

She squeezed his hand warmly. Her face clouded. "What about my class?"

Storm thought for a minute. "For now, we'll have to suspend your classes. In a few weeks, if Sabretooth stays away, we can bring you back a couple times a week.

"We just started the garmagé section. They can work on practicing what we've learned in class, and they can experiment with the other methods in my textbook." She sighed sadly. "This really sucks."

"I don't like it." Muttered Logan "who's gonna keep an eye out for her in the city? Just because the bastard doesn't like the city, it doesn't mean he _won't _ go in after her."

"I think the local Mutant community would be willing to keep their eyes open and contact us if there's any trouble." Said Hank. "They already have a neighborhood watch of sorts. And I work in the city as well. I would be happy to stop in and check on her now and then." He smiled over at Anna.

She smiled shyly at him and looked around at the group. "So it's settled then?"

Before she left, Anna stopped by the rooms of all her students and explained what was happening. There were a lot of tears and lots of hugs, and all too quickly she found herself in a big black car driving away from the school and the friends she's made there.

The drive into D.C. was a fairly long one, and before too long she was sound asleep. She came partly awake just as they hit the city streets. She'd always been able to tell when she was nearing the end of a journey. She sleepily remembered trips to her grandparents' house in Brooklyn. She'd always fall asleep on the trip from the airport, but she'd wake up just as they turned onto that last street. She smiled to herself as she remembered being carried in, barely awake and yet still excited to hear her aunt's familiar voice, and the quiet hugs and kisses from the grandparents as her father carried her into the house.

She sighed and cuddled closer into the cushions of the seat. The cushion shifted slightly and Hank cleared his throat right next to her ear. She came slowly more awake as the realization of where she was lying dawned on her. Her eyes opened wide and she slowly lifted her head in mortification.

Hank sat back against the corner between the seat back and the door with his chin resting on his chest. She had been leaning against him with her head on his shoulder. His arm was resting across her shoulders. He lifted his head sleepily and smiled.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry Hank! If I'd known that I was laying on you, I would have moved!"

"It's quite alright my dear. I didn't mind at all."

"You are a sweetheart, you know that? I hope that we will come to be good friends."

He gently brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek and spoke softly. "I would like that."

Her eyes closed most of the way and she took a deep breath involuntarily. The sensation of his fingers on her cheek sent a tingling rush throughout her body. She opened her eyes slowly and realized that she was still leaning up against him.

Hank's eyes were hooded, and a small frown creased his forehead as he gazed intently into her eyes. His lips were so close, and she found herself longing to kiss them. She could feel a slight vibration under her hands, and hear a low rumble emanating from deep in his chest.

His free hand slid up to hold hers, and the other slid under her hair. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand in slow, sinuous, circles. She marveled at how quickly he seemed to have become attracted to her, though she wasn't complaining. If she could have picked anyone to become involved with, it would have been him.

Then she suddenly realized why. A pang of disappointment struck her hard, like a physical blow. Her pheromones. It wasn't her, it was her hormones. She let out a harsh breath of disappointment and turned her head away, sitting back against the opposite door.

"Anna," Hank said, his voice heavy with disappointment as well. "Why…"

"Open your window, Hank." She said softly, opening her own.

Puzzled, he did as she requested, his eyes still on her. She kept her face turned away and closed her eyes against the breeze that suddenly blew through, bringing the fresh, clean smell of the rain, and washing away the stink of her pheromones.

Hank inhaled deeply and shook himself. She could feel him shifting uncomfortably in the seat beside her. The rode in silence for several minutes, letting the breeze calm and soothe them.

"I'm so sorry Hank," she whispered.

He took her hand again and squeezed. "It's not your fault, Anna. It's not something you can control. Yet."

Still staring out the window, she squeezed his hand back.

"I really didn't mind, Anna." He said softly, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "I haven't felt like that in a long time. I was enjoying it."

Wordlessly, she gently took her hand away and sighed. "I don't want it like that." She said, dispiritedly.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed again. "If I am to have a relationship with someone, I want it to be because they like who _I_ am, not just because their body likes my stink." She turned to look firmly into his eyes. "I don't want a relationship based solely on physical attraction. That's what was wrong with my marriage. He didn't like me as a person, he just liked having a sexual 7-11." She clenched her teeth and looked away again. "I like you, Hank, and I'm _very_ attracted to you. But if I can't have your heart and mind, as well as your body, I don't want any of it."

He sat silently for a long time, and she was sure she'd blown her chance with him. She flinched inwardly when he rested his hand on her shoulder. She glanced over at him, and all trace of his attraction was gone, replaced by gentle understanding and mild admiration.

"I can respect that."

He squeezed her shoulder kindly and then turned to the radio controls.

The car pulled up to the curb in front of a White, two-story four-plex with old-fashioned, black doors and a large balcony overhanging the street from the second floor. The place looked big, and she chewed her lip nervously. The realization that she was going to be utterly alone in this city full of strangers, terrified her, and the thought of going up into that empty apartment by herself made her want to faint.

"Hank," she said in a tremulous voice.

"Yes?"

"Will you go up with me? Just for a few minutes?" She asked plaintively.

He paused for a moment. She turned back to face him, to see a warm, sympathetic smile on his face. "Of course, my dear."

They clambered out of the car and Hank came round to stand next to her. She fumbled with the keys and stared nervously at the front door. Hank gently laid a hand on her back and gave her a slight nudge to get her moving. She was grateful when he didn't remove it once she started walking.

The front door led to a foyer with three doors. They moved to the one directly ahead, Warren having already told them that the one to the left led to a garage, and the one to the right led to the downstairs apartment that was now empty.

They climbed the flight of stairs that lay behind the third door and came to a landing with a single door. Anna took a deep breath and unlocked it.

The inside of the apartment was dark. Hank came up directly behind her, forcing her to take a few blind steps further into the apartment. She could hear him scrabbling along the wall for the light switch.

With a click that seemed very loud in the dark, silent apartment, light flooded blindingly throughout the room. Anna squeezed her eyes shut and lifted a hand to shield them. Blinking furiously, she forced her eyes open to adjust themselves to the light.

When she could finally see, She stared about in astonishment. Hank whistled low behind her.

They stood just inside the front door, in the center of an huge, open space. To the left of the door lay the living room. There were two full couches and three comfortable looking chairs arranged in a large open sided square on a beautifully woven carpet that lay over a dark-stained, hardwood floor. A huge television occupied most of the wall in front of the couches, and a large, blocky, low coffee table sat right in the center of that open-sided square. A sophisticated surround sound system encircled the living room. On the same wall as the entry door, lay a bank of large windows, covered with a layer of heavy curtains, and a layer of gauzy liners.

A large, double door in the opposite wall sat partway open to reveal a bedroom done in somber blues and light wood tones. Further inspection revealed a large, walk-in closet, a desk with a space for a computer, two night tables, a low dresser, a full-length mirror, and a large, inset window with a padded seat just below. A second door next to the closet, led to a simple bathroom with a toilet and sink.

They wandered back into the main room. Opposite the living room lay a dining area with room for a dozen people. A pair of tall, glass doors with the dual-layered curtains led out onto a huge balcony with stone benches all around, and a low table in the center of the semi-circle for plates and beverages served outside.

Beyond the dining area lay a kitchen that made Anna's heart flutter. She trailed her hands lovingly across black granite and stainless steel, almost purring. There was a large refrigerator/freezer with ice and water in the door, just inside the kitchen. A long counter, broken only by a large, two-sided sink with a hanging spray nozzle and industrial-strength garbage disposal, lay between the fridge and the gas oven, free of any appliances or jars of kitchen tools. Opposite the work triangle sat a breakfast bar, also topped with black granite. It hid the racks where the pots and pans were hung, as well as the most commonly used kitchen tools and utensils.

"Oh, yeah…" She purred

"I take it you enjoy cooking." Hank murmured through an amused smile.

"Oh, yes indeed." She sighed rolling her eyes dreamily.

Hank chuckled to himself and wandered back out.

She dragged herself almost regretfully out of the kitchen to explore what lay down a short hallway to the left of the kitchen. The wall there was angled peculiarly, which allowed for a wider hallway than usual, and it was only about 10 feet long. A pair of large double doors sat in the wall to the left, and a wide, single door was set into the wall at the end of the Hallway. They peeked into the doors to the left and found a room straight out of the movies. Everything was done in snowy white and deep, dark-varnished wood. The windows were framed in dark wood, and had a cushioned seat, just as the other room had. The bed had a dark wooden frame of simple, yet tasteful design, with snowy white linens. The floor was hardwood in here, with rugs of white and earth tones. The closet was not as big as the other room's, nor was the desk. The room in general was a lot smaller than the first, but this one had a computer sitting at the desk.

"I want this room," Anna breathed. "It's just like something out of a movie!"

"Anna," Hank called from behind her. "Come and see."

She turned to see him standing just inside another door, next to the one to the hallway.

"A bathroom?" She asked, squeezing in next to him.

"That is _quite_ an understatement," He said in an awed voice.

Anna stared, astounded. The bathroom was bigger than the bedroom. Done in river rock and cream-colored porcelain, it quite took the breath away. It had a separate bathtub and shower, both done in multi-colored river rock. The faucets weren't the standard pipe that water came shooting out of, but were wide-mouthed troughs that the water would flow from in glistening sheets to cascade waterfall-like into the tub, sink, or shower. The toilet was fairly standard, but matched the cream of the bathtub and sink. There were large mirrors over the sink, and a large standing mirror sat opposite the tub in an open corner with an Asian-style dressing shield, and an inset cabinet that held towels.

"I could _live_ in this bathroom!" Anna squealed with delight, spinning in place in the center of the room.

After the tour, Anna walked her weary escort to the door.

"Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I'm afraid I have to get back soon. I have to be up very early in the morning, and I'll only get just enough sleep as it is."

Anna swallowed her disappointment and nervousness at being alone and smiled. "Well then get you home and to bed. Thank you so much for coming up with me. It means the world."

Hank smiled down at her. "Anytime." He opened the door and stepped outside.

"You're more than welcome to visit any time. My door is always open to you, Hank."

"Well thank you. I'll take you up on that offer. I'm eager to see what wonders will come out of that kitchen you love so much!" He said with a merry twinkle in his eye. He patted himself. "Oh! I'd almost forgotten." He pulled a wallet out of his breast pocket. "You will need to get yourself some groceries, I'd imagine." He pulled out two hundred-dollar bills and handed them to her.

"Hank," she said, frowning. "You don't have to give me your money!"

He grinned at her. "Consider it a down payment for all the food you'll be feeding me!" He pulled the door shut before she could object further.

She hurried over to the balcony and waited for him to emerge.

"I'll pay you back as soon as I can!" she called down to him.

He gave her a placating smile. "Goodnight, Anna."

"Goodnight Hank. Travel safely."


	10. Two Heads are NOT Better Than One

_Confusion. Flashes of a struggle with a dark haired woman. No! A blonde woman! Let me go! She's so strong! A feeling of weakness. What's happening! I feel so weak. Who am I? Let go! Let Go! LET GO!_

Rogue sat bolt upright, the scream ripping raggedly from her throat. Confusing flashes of memories that weren't her own assailed her barely conscious mind. She clapped her hands to sides of her head and curled up into a ball. The welter of memories and images flipped chaotically through her mind with a disturbing and terrifying sense of being both perfectly right and horribly wrong.

She shuddered and moaned as consciousness slowly and jarringly began to drag her out of her terrified confusion. Dimly, she was aware of someone touching her and voices that were coming from _outside_ of her head.

Desperate for an escape from her mental torment, her wakening mind grasped eagerly at the solidity of the hand on her shoulder. Struggling against the weight of Rogue's…no, Carol Danvers' presence in her mind, she fought her way to full consciousness.

Gradually the voices became intelligible and she could understand what was going on.

"..the _hell_ were you thinking, Bella? She could have been killed!" That Voice! It was so familiar! She grasped onto that thought and strained to hear more.

"We didn't know she'd be there, Remy!" She recognized that voice as well, but there was something more. She felt anger at this voice.

"That's no excuse! You should have run. You had no business putting Marie in danger like that."

"_Marie_," the second, a female voice said snidely. "You're _so_ worried about poor little Marie, when you should be more worried about the rest of us! That "_Ms. Marvel_" could have killed all of us, and you're only worried about this _stranger_!"

"No one would have gotten hurt if you hadn't tried to ambush me there!" Carol snarled through Rogue's lips.

Rogue opened her eyes and stood slowly, carefully. A good-looking man moved in front of her and peered concernedly into her eyes. "Marie, are you alright?"

She squinted at him, recognition dawning on her slowly. "Remy," She breathed.

Relief flooded his features and he smiled his cocky smile for her. "Had a rough day, Cher?"

She shook her head, struggling to make sense of the bizarrely stereoscopic memories of the day. She glanced up and saw the woman who owned the second familiar voice.

Belladonna was glaring at her with undisguised hatred and…fear? Danvers smirked at her and before Rogue knew what was happening, she had brushed Remy aside and lifted Belladonna off the floor by the front of her jacket.

"You obnoxious little bitch," She spat through Rogue's teeth. "You set this up to get rid of one of the both of us, didn't you? Regardless of which one of us won, you'd be rid of a rival or an enemy. Didn't count on both of us surviving, did you?" She smirked as she slammed Belladonna against the wall.

Gambit shook his head and struggled to get back to his feet. "Marie, how did you…" He stammered as he rose to his feet.

"Remy!" Belladonna cried. "Remy save me! She's going to kill me!"

He stood, transfixed, starting at the two women he cared most about in the world. He was appalled at the sudden strength Marie was showing, and bewildered by what she was saying.

Danvers smiled grimly at her adversary. "No, child. We're not going to kill you. But we _are_ going to _hurt_ you." She growled with grim satisfaction.

Remy stared at her anxiously. "Now Cher," He said holding his hands up and inching closer to her. "No need to be hasty…I'm sure this has all been one big misunderstanding."

She turned her gaze upon Remy and smirked. "Your _friend_ here isn't as sweet and innocent as you think she is." She purred. "Turns out she's quite the little schemer."

Belladonna struggled to free herself from Rogue's iron grip. "Don't listen to her Remy! She's crazy! Help me!"

"Marie, please…" He began.

"She believes that you belong to her, you know," Rogue said breaking through Danvers' control. "In her mind you're as good as married. The wedding is a foregone conclusion, and no more than a formality."

Belladonna face froze into a wide-eyed expression of panic, and she began to scratch and claw at her rival's hands in a desperate attempt to escape her iron grip. "Shut up! Remy, she's just trying to turn you against me! Don't listen!"

"Wedding…" Gambit muttered. "We're not getting _married_." He laid a gently restraining hand on Rogue's shoulder. "You're mistaken, Cher. Me and Bella…we're like family."

He glanced up at his dearest friend for confirmation. He was surprised to find an expression of horrified disbelief on his Bella's face.

Her voice was a strangled hiss. "_Family?_" She gasped. "How can you say that Remy? We were matched when we were children!"

He snorted and barked out a short laugh of amusement. "That ridiculous compact, Bella? You _can't _ be serious!" His smile slowly drained from his face when he saw the stricken look in her eyes.

"Bella, you thought…but we've never…" He stared at her in consternation. He turned to Rogue and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Please cher, let her down."

Rogue releases Belladonna, and leaves, furious. Gambit catches up with her as she's packing her things to leave. He tells her that Danvers' body is in a coma. She takes her stuff and tells him that she's going back to the mansion. He tries to get her to stay, but she flies off shakily. She visits Danvers' body and vows to find a way to get carol back into her own body.

She has a fleeting thought of her parents, and Danvers convinces her to head home, since she's so close anyway. When Rogue arrives, it's late, and as her parents are greeting her, someone throws Molotov cocktails at the house. They are rushed by a bunch of thugs in black clothes, and Marie/Danvers fights them all off. She calls the school to report the attack and ask for some local mutant contacts. She leaves her family in the care of the local police department and heads back to the mansion with what little information she has been able to gather.


	11. Family Matters

Rogue will have gone home briefly after leaving gambit behind in New Orleans. While she is there, the first of the attacks will happen, targeting her family. She fights off the FOH and flies her parents off to someplace safe, and in the care of the police. As she is settling them in at a hotel, the team calls and tells her of the other attacks and their flight to the Drake's home.

Theresa sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp. Beside her, her husband snored on, oblivious to her sudden panic. Her eyes whipped around the room as her heart thudded in her chest. Something had woken her up, but she couldn't figure out what it was. She strained her ears, listening for _something_.

A muffled thud from downstairs made her heart hammer even faster. "Carmine!" she hissed as she shook her husband. "Carmine!"

He snorted and jumped as he came partially awake. "Wha? What is it?"

"I think there's someone in the house!" She breathed in a terrified whisper.

Another thump and a glassy clink made them both jump, and they stared at one another in fear.

"That was the table in the hallway!" She squeaked.

Carmine swung his legs out of the bed. "Call the police, Ter."

She swung around and snatched up the phone. When she hit the button, nothing happened. Dumfounded with fear, she pressed the unresponsive button over and over.

"It doesn't work!" she cried

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed at her as he pressed his ear to the door.

There was a crash in the hallway as a picture was knocked from the wall, and they could hear the whispered admonishment for silence.

Theresa clapped her hands over her mouth as fear tightened her throat and Carmine stared back at her with an expression of such terror she knew it was their lives on the line.

A footstep in the hall shocked them out of their terrified stupor. In a panic-driven burst of speed, Carmine seized the bureau and knocked it onto its side, blocking the door. The sudden crash of the dresser and the shattering of the pictures and knick-knacks that had been on top sounded unnaturally loud, and announced louder than words that the inhabitants of this house were not only awake, but aware of the intruders approaching their bedroom.

Carmine gathered his wife into his arms and backed away from the door as several voices cried out in alarm and chagrin at the commotion caused by the toppled bureau. A moment later, something heavy crashed against the door.

Theresa screamed and sobbed into her husband's shoulder. Carmine held her trembling body against him, his mind racing as he tried to think of what to do. He let out a startled cry as something cold touched the back of his arm, which made Theresa scream again.

The intruders continued to crash against the door, making the pictures on the walls jump and rattle. He looked behind himself and realized that he had backed up against the window.

"The window!" He shouted, letting go of his wife. He turned and threw himself against the pane. It creaked and protested, but slowly raised.

"Help!" He screamed. "Help us!"

"PLEASE!" Cried Theresa "Someone call the Police!"

The crashing against the door came faster now, the wood beginning to crack and split under the constant assault.

The two continued to scream for help for what seemed hours when they realized that the pounding on their bedroom door had stopped. Lights were finally coming on in the neighboring houses up and down the street and they began to feel some hope of rescue.

"Carmine!" Theresa cried, clutching at his shoulder. "Look!"

In the shadows of their yard they could see the dark outlines of several people as they fled the Pryde home. One figure was bearing a box of some sort and had stopped just below their window.

There was a spark of some sort, then a tiny flame in the figure's hands. Another joined the first and held something to the fire. It flared brilliantly and Carmine could clearly see that it was a bottle with a piece of cloth hanging from it. His heart sank as his eyes fell upon the crate of Molotov cocktails at their feet.

The second figure raised the bottle and in that moment, he was revealed to be wearing a dark ski mask. Carmine's eyes locked with his attacker's for a split second before the bottle was launched directly at their window.

"Theresa! GET BACK!" He grabbed his wife by the shoulders and threw himself over the bed, dragging her with him.

The bottle shattered against the window frame, spattering the room in liquid fire. Carmine threw himself over his wife, shielding her as he waited for more to follow. From below the sounds of shattering glass from every room could be clearly heard as their assailants threw more of their homemade bombs through every window and into every room.

The sound of Police sirens could be heard, and the sounds of destruction stopped suddenly to be replaced by the roar of flames. Carmine stood and gazed at his room filling with smoke. Theresa sat sobbing in terror.

"What do we do Carmine! What do we do!"

"Quick!" He yelled, tearing the coverlet off the bed. "Get this wet!" He threw the blanket at her and pointed at the bathroom door. "Get all of this wet!" He shouted as he tore the rest of the bedclothes free.

She snatched up the blankets and flew into their tiny bathroom. She turned on the shower full force and threw everything in.

Carmine snatched a damp towel from the hamper and began to beat at the flames. "Hurry Theresa! We need to put out the fire in the window so we can get out!"

Theresa grabbed up the dripping blankets and tore into the bedroom, tripping as she ran. She gasped and sobbed in panic as she struggled to untangle herself. A moment later, Carmine was there pulling her into his arms and holding her tight against his chest.

"It's gonna be ok, babe," he said into her ear. "but you gotta calm down and help me with this, OK? We're gonna be alright."

She clung to him and sobbed into his chest. He murmured encouragement to her, galvanizing her to do what she needed to. Together they spread the wet bedclothes over the flames, smothering them instantly. As they approached the doused window, they could see all of their neighbors standing across the street as the Fire Department screeched to a halt in front of their house.

They screamed and cried for help, waving frantically with the scorched towel.

"There they are!" cried someone in the crowd.

As one, the firemen turned. Half a heartbeat later they flew into action. As the truck's ladder unfolded and turned toward where they stood, Carmine wrapped his arms around his wife.

"We're alright." He panted. "We're going to be alright."

"Thank God Katherine is at the school!" She wept with relief.

"Thank God," He agreed.

"Edna! Where are you?"

His voice was drowned in the roar of the downpour as he struggled over uneven ground in search of his wife. He swiped ineffectually at his face as the rain washed blood from the cut on his head into his eyes.

_Where could that woman be?_ He stumbled and fell against a large tree. _Confound her stubborn streak. She was probably hurt in the wreck and wandered off to find help while I was out cold._

An unwelcome image of Edna lying hurt and helpless in the pouring rain gripped his heart in an icy fist. He shoved himself away from the tree and hurried on in his search.

"Edna!" he called again. "Answer me!"

A low groan stopped him in his tracks. "Edna?"

"Norton," came the almost inaudible call.

Sick with relief he slipped and skid in the direction her voice had come from. There, lying in the mud lay the woman he'd loved for all of his adult life. With a strangled cry he rushed over and lifted her head and shoulders to rest in his arms. Her face was splattered with mud and there was a large welt on her forehead. Her cheek had a bloody scrape and she lay trembling in his arms.

"Norton," she whispered. "I'm so cold"

He pulled her closer to himself and wrapped his arms around her. His head throbbed and he had trouble focusing. He had to get her warm somehow…

The car! He had to get her to the car!

"Edna, can you walk? Edna!" He shook her gently. Her head rolled lifelessly and his heart stopped. He stared at her for several minutes, terrified until he saw her chest rising and falling as she breathed. He choked back a relieved sob and cradled her close as he struggled to figure out what to do.

There was no way he could carry her, he was too old. And she couldn't walk. "I'll just have to go bring the car here," he muttered to himself.

At that moment, he heard the roar of an engine and the squeal of tires. His head shot up and he stared in horror as the distant silhouette of his car burst into flames. Fading into the distance he could hear cheering and evil laughter.

He watched his car burn and his heart shriveled in his chest. Obviously whomever it was that ran them off the road, didn't want them to survive. There was no way that he could carry Edna a few feet, much less for several miles to find help; Especially not when he was injured himself. And he was weary of flagging down a passing car; what if it was their attackers again! It looked as if their fate was in the hands of a higher power now.

Norton hugged his wife closer as despair washed over him, and he prayed for miracle.

The entire house shook from the force of the men battering at the doors. Their angry voices carried through the wood and molding. Bill and Ronny shoved more furniture in front of the door, blocking out their attackers, but effectively trapping them in the basement.

"Is that gonna hold, dad?" asked Ronny as he eyed their makeshift barricade dubiously.

"I hope so, son," William panted.

"Bobby!" Shouted Storm. "It's Marie! She needs directions to your parent's house!"

He nodded and hit the com control panel, his handsome face creased with worry and impatience.

Storm refocused on her flying. "ETA 2 minutes. Everybody buckle up!"

"Will Marie be joining us, Ororo?" Hank asked quietly from the co-pilot's seat.

"Yeah," she replied, distracted. "She was on her way back to the Mansion. She said she'll meet us at the Drake's"

"What does she mean to do?" He asked delicately.

"I dunno. There was a lot of noise when she called, I couldn't make out half of what she was saying." She glanced back at Bobby who was talking earnestly with one finger in his free ear. "Honestly, she's had training, so she can help. I'm just glad to have more than just the three of us going in"

Hank made a sound of agreement. "Perhaps her training will be of use. From everything we've been able to determine, it's just a group of everyday thugs perpetrating these attacks. I don't think they'll pose much of a threat to her"

Storm smiled humorlessly. "Heads up guys! IR detects multiple bogeys approaching the house!"

Hank focused on his instruments. "I count ten, no, a dozen men in and around the house, but I don't think I see the Drakes…Bobby, do your parents have a cellar?"

"Yeah. They could be in there. I'm getting an irregularly shaped heat signature from the back of the house…It's faint, but I think it's them." Bobby replied anxiously. He sat up and turned his seat away from the IR screen to face forward. "Let's just get there." He growled.

Rogue struggled to hold the flapping piece of paper still as she raced to meet up with the team. She struggled with her resentment of his family for treating Bobby like he was diseased, and her affection for him that let her share in his fear and anxiety for his family. Though she had little use for them, she knew that Bobby still loved them, so she would do whatever she could to help.

_Good for you, girl._

She shook her head to clear Danvers' voice from her mind. Her stomach twisted as she remembered why the beautiful blonde woman was such a strong influence in her mind, and she silently berated herself for shunning the woman's hard-won approval.

Unfamiliar with the terrain, Rogue descended slowly to check landmarks and street signs and get her bearings. She was so focused on finding her way that she didn't notice the incredulous stares, or the squealing tires as people stopped to stare at the woman hovering distractedly in the air.

She checked her written directions and took off again. This flying business wasn't so bad, once she stopped fighting it. It felt natural in a really bizarre and inexplicable way, and it was really exhilarating!

Above, the clouds were roiling angrily, streaming toward Rogue's destination. The wind began to pick up and she was knocked flailing by a particularly strong gust. Everything was suddenly spinning uncontrollably and she was falling. She screamed as she plummeted like a rock toward the ground. She knew she was going to hit, but she had no idea what to do. Terrified, she shut down and stopped fighting the inevitable.

_NO!_

Rogue's body, infused with Danvers' power and backed up with Danvers' mind, took over. Just a few feet from the ground, her fall stopped. She stared at the ground in disbelief, panting hard.

_Be more careful, will ya? Damn._

She blushed, a little crestfallen, and threw herself back into flight. She was all tensed up after her fall, and the mechanics of smooth flight were escaping her. Below she saw the flashing lights of a dozen police cruisers as they raced to the Drake's house, too. She clenched her fists angrily. She was taking too long. She tried to squeeze out more speed and only succeeded in nearly knocking herself out of the air again.

_Realx already! Your body knows what to do. Chill._

Rogue took a deep breath and willed herself to unclench. As her muscles relaxed, her flight became smoother, more stable. She could feel the difference in the way the air moved around her, and she could almost feel what it was inside her that enabled her to fly.

A flash of lightning and a deafening roar startled her out of her inner musings, and she refocused on the job at hand. The sounds of battle could be heard a few streets over, so she lifted herself above the houses and raced toward the fight.

"I'm going in!"

"Bobby, wait!" Shouted Storm.

He stopped to block an upraised club wielded by a man in dark clothes and a ski mask. He kicked the guy in the stomach and when he fell, Bobby welded his legs to the ground with a block of ice.

"Behind you, lad!" Snarled McCoy.

Bobby whirled in time to see another man in black pointing a gun at him. He threw up his hands to freeze the gun, but a blur of blue fur tackled the man from the side, hurling him several feet away, to land in a crumpled heap against the side of the house, the gun a few feet from his outstretched hand.

Bobby turned to run into the house when McCoy stopped him again. "I know you're impatient son, but there's not much point in bringing them out in the middle of a half dozen enemies." He took the anxious young man by the shoulders consolingly. "I know you're worried about your family, but rushing in there recklessly will only get you hurt or killed."

Bobby glanced away angrily and took a deep, calming breath. A moment later he squared his shoulders and nodded.

McCoy gave his shoulders a bracing squeeze and they turned to face the house.

From behind them came Storm's horrified shout. "BEHIND YOU!"

The two whirled to see the gunman Hank had knocked sprawling standing shakily and aiming the gun at them. McCoy Jumped in front of Bobby and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

"Oh no you don't!"

They watched in amazement as a streak of red and white hair and brown leather shot out of the sky and pinned the gunman against the house again. They all stared incredulously as Rogue calmly plucked the gun out of his hand and crumpled the barrel with one hand and a screech of metallic protest.

The man flailed desperately at her, his blows seeming to bounce off her as if she were made of stone. Her face twisted with anger, she lifted the struggling man off the ground with one hand, her other arm drawn back to strike him.

Hank's heart faltered. She seemed so angry, and with her surprising strength, she could easily kill this man. He took a step forward to stop her, and she appeared to suddenly check herself. With a contemptuous flick of her wrist she hurled him against the wall.

The man slumped to the ground and didn't move again. Bobby froze him in place for good measure.

McCoy had gone over and picked up the mangled gun that Rogue had taken from the now unconscious man. "Marie, how is this possible?"

Her jaw clenched and her eyes looked stricken. She swallowed hard and turned away quickly. "There's no time to explain now. We've got to save Bobby's family." Without another word she marched into the house, brushing the front door aside as if it were made of cardboard.

There suddenly came a vast, yet familiar whine, and a roaring boom that sounded like thunder. Everything went quiet for several long moments, then the sounds from outside the basement door began to change. The battering against the door ceased, and from above they could hear a terrible snarl of rage that made them shrink back in fear.

Their attackers' angry cries quickly became cries of fear and pain. Several times they could hear the sounds of men shrieking in pain, and they huddled together in fear. There were jarring crashes and muffled thumps, and then the sound of someone rushing down the basement stairs.

"Mom! Dad! Ronny!"

"Bobby!" Madeline cried in relief

"Here son! We're down here!" William called as he scrambled to move the barricade.

The door creaked and groaned as Bobby tried to force it open.

"Hold on Bobby!" yelled Ronny. "We have to move all this stuff!"

The Drakes frantically pushed, shoved, and threw aside the boxes and furniture that kept them safe from the attackers. As the last piece was moved, the door flew open and there stood a handsome, sure, and strong young man who gazed at them with mingled fear and relief.

"Bobby?" Madeline whispered as he caught her in his arms and hugged her tightly. His chest heaved as he gasped with relief. He reached out and pulled his brother and father in and held all of them tightly, tears streaming down his face.

"Bobby!" Called a deep, resonant voice from above. "Did you find them?"

"Yeah! They're alright!" he replied, reluctantly pulling away from them and turning to face his teammate.

A large, hulking blue figure stood at the top of the stairs. "I'm relieved to see you all alright, Mr. and Mrs. Drake." He greeted them in an oddly subdued voice. "The police have arrived. They're taking these men into custody and they would like to take your statements, if you are ready."

William was shocked when he realized who their blue rescuer was. He had known that Bobby was acquainted with him through the school, but he would never have expected to see him doing this kind of "dirty work." Shaking off his preoccupation, he nodded and followed Bobby and the Ambassador into what was left of the living room.

Madeline clapped her hands over her mouth and burst into tears. Bobby hurriedly wrapped his arms around her and whispered comfort to her.

"What are we going to do?" She wailed. "Where will we go?"

"Don't worry Mom." Bobby said softly. "After the police are done we're going to take you all back to the mansion with us. We can protect all of you there."

"That's very kind of you, Bobby." She sniffled. "Especially after the way we've treated you."

"It's alright Mom. All I care about right now is keeping you guys safe."

She squeezed her son, feeling the relief only a mother can feel when an estrangement with her child has been broken, and she once again holds him in her arms. She self-consciously wiped at her eyes and touched his face lovingly.

A uniformed officer stepped into the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Drake? Can we take your statements now?" William stepped up behind his wife and laid an arm around her shoulder. Together, they followed the police officer out of the room.

Ronny stood nervously behind the Easy chair, fidgeting with the folds of the material and glancing anxiously up at his brother from time to time.

Feeling his little brother's discomfort, Bobby stepped over cautiously. "Hey Ron, you alright?"

Ronny nodded and licked his lips. "Look, Bobby…I."

Bobby held up his hand. "Don't sweat it man." He held out his hand as a peace gesture. Ronny hesitantly clasped the offered hand in his own and Bobby pulled him in for a rough embrace.

William stepped into the room and smiled to see his sons making peace. In a gentle and softly regretful voice, he called, "Ronny, the police need to get your statement, too."

The boys separated and Ronny followed his father from the room

.

Once the Drakes and Prydes were settled, the team gathered quietly in the conference room adjoining the Infirmary. Storm was speaking quietly to someone on the phone, when Bobby, Kitty and Rogue came in followed by Logan and Jubilee.

Storm hit the speakerphone button and laid the phone back on its cradle. "Where's Hank?"

"Here, Ororo," He said softly from where he stood in the doorway.

"How are they?" She asked sympathetically.

"They're resting for now. I'd like to get back to them as quickly as possible though."

"Of course," she said with a nod. She then addressed the room in general. "I have Brian and Elisabeth Braddock on the line. I've explained the situation to them and they've agreed to help us relocate the families."

"It's our pleasure," Spoke a deep masculine voice. "I'm sorry to hear of this cowardly attack. Have all the families been accounted for?"

"Yes. And most have already been evacuated from their homes. Mr. and Mrs. McCoy were the last to be located. They're here under Hank's care, now."

"Oh, Hank!" came a low, resonant woman's voice. "Please give them my warmest regards. I look forward to seeing them again."

"Thank you, Elizabeth." McCoy said, sounding a little confused. "Will you be visiting soon?"

"Ah, no," She replied, also sounding confused. "It was my understanding they would be coming here."

Everyone looked to Storm.

"We were just discussing the relocation of the team's families. I thought it might be best if your parents were placed with someone familiar, Hank. I took the liberty of asking Betsy and Brian if they'd be willing to take them in."

His brow furrowed in displeasure, but he didn't speak.

"It is entirely up to you and your parents, Hank. We're just exploring options here."

He took a deep breath and his features smoothed out a little. "Of course, Ororo. I understand."

Storm took a deep breath and addressed the room in general.

"So far, all of our families have been accounted for. The Police have sent officers to check on all the families of the students, and it appears that only the families of the Team have been attacked. Thankfully, aside from the injuries sustained by Hank's parents, no one else has been hurt."

"Not for a lack of trying," grumbled Bobby.

Storm nodded, her expression grave. "He's right. These attacks were not random acts of vandalism. Someone planned this out with the intent to kill. None of our families were meant to survive this."

"But who would do something like this? Why?" Asked Rogue

"We don't know yet. The Police are questioning the men we stopped at the Drakes' house. They promised to let us know when they know something."

There was a general snort of derision from everyone in the room and Storm nodded with a crooked smile of agreement.

"So now what?" Warren asked quietly. "My family is safe enough. There's so much security around them that these…_people_ didn't even bother with them, but what about everyone else?"

Storm flipped through some papers on the desk in front of her and picked up a sheet with hastily scribbled notes all over it.

"The Braddocks and I have put together a list of people friendly to us who may be able to help. Frankly, this was far too well planned, and it's only due to ineptitude on the part of the ones who actually made the attacks that anyone survived. They knew names, faces, addresses and the layouts of the houses. I'm afraid we're going to have to relocate everyone."

The room fell into a troubled silence as they all started to grasp the implications of such a move.

"But if they know who our families are, what good would relocation do?" Asked Kitty.

Storm glanced up at McCoy. "Hank, what would it take to get everyone new identities?"

He frowned thoughtfully, clearly disliking the direction the meeting was taking. "I suppose it wouldn't be difficult to get them new identities through the witness protection program. However I don't think the government would be willing to provide monetary support, seeing as how they will not be witnessing to anything."

"But the government _can_ get them new identities and the paperwork to go with them? And perhaps help them to find decent jobs?"

"I'm certain of it."

Bobby shook his head stubbornly. "It's not going to work. All they'd have to do is trace an email, peek at our mail, or wait for one of us to go for a visit, to find them again."

Storm's face creased with pain. "That's why you won't be able to do any of those things, Bobby," She said softly. "This will have to be an indefinite, if not permanent separation."

There was a vast, stunned silence as everyone finally grasped the full extent of what was being planned.

"No…there _has_ to be another way!" Kitty whispered as she seized Jubilee's hand.

Hank fell back against the doorframe with an haunted expression, and Rogue carefully laid a hand on Bobby's shoulder in support. "Do we even have confirmation that they all have places to go?" She asked unwillingly.

"Not yet," Storm answered with a shake of her head. "We'll make all of our phone calls in the morning, and compile a list of confirmed safe houses, and then we'll bring the families in on it so you and they can make the final decisions on what and where."

Elisabeth Braddock broke the stunned silence then. "Brian and I will start making calls to our friends here right now. We'll call you in about 12 hours with our list." She sniffled softly and continued in a voice heavy with sympathy. "I'm so very sorry for you all." She said simply.

Storm wiped at her eyes. "Thank you Elisabeth. We'll talk to you in 12 hours."

It was the abnormal quiet that brought her partially awake. Still mostly asleep, she groggily tried to figure out what it was that was missing. She was annoyed and it bothered her enough that she grudgingly roused herself.

As she came slowly awake, she realized that her head hurt. She frowned against the pain and grunted softly.

"Mother, can you hear me?" said a familiar voice as a huge, warm hand gently picked up her own

"Henry?" She murmured sleepily.

There was a gusty sigh of relief and some light pressure on the inside of her wrist. "Thank heavens!" He whispered vehemently.

She opened her eyes and found that she had to struggle to focus on his beloved face. "Son, where am I?"

He smiled and gently touched her face. "You're at the Institute, Mom. You and Dad were in an accident."

_An accident?_ She thought. "Norton!" She gasped, trying weakly to sit up. "Where is your father? Is he Okay?"

Henry gently pushed her back down and took her hand again. "Dad's alright. He's just gone upstairs for some breakfast."

She laid a hand to her forehead in relief and winced when her fingers brushed against a goose egg just above her hairline. She gently probed the extent of the damage with her fingertips. "What happened, Son?"

He sank tiredly into the chair next to her bed and quietly told her the events of the previous day. She listened, horrified as he described the attacks on his friends' families, and wondered at her own survival. Blessedly, she couldn't remember anything beyond getting into the car with Norton the previous night.

He then quietly explained the plans being laid out for them all. Though her own heart broke to know that she and Norton would soon have to leave their only son behind, the sight of her boy's haggard expression enabled her to shove her own sorrow aside so that she could comfort him.

She held her arms out to him and he wrapped his own around her, weeping against her chest. It tore at her very soul to see the powerful figure of a man he'd become, reduced to such hopeless tears. Yet at the same time, it made her heart swell to know that he still loved his parents so much. She held him and crooned to him like she had when he was just a boy.

"Shhh…there there son. It's not as bad as all that." She murmured as she patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm sorry, Mother," He sniffled, reaching for a tissue. "It was terrible when I couldn't find you, and then I was so relieved when the police found you, only to find that I'm going to lose you both again so soon…"

She touched his face tenderly, her eyes burning with shared sorrow. "This won't be as permanent as you think, son. You'll see.

He pressed his face into her hand and closed his eyes. She watched patiently as he struggled to pull himself together. He wiped at his eyes and blew his nose, all business again.

"How are you feeling, Mother?" He asked, shining a light into her eyes and gently probing her aching head.

She sighed and let him do his Doctor thing. When he was satisfied, he used the phone on the wall and asked someone to send her breakfast down with his Father. She gestured to the seat next to her and tried to distract him with some conversation.

As they spoke, she gazed at him fondly. He always spoke so eloquently, and he was as intelligent as he was handsome. Though she knew that most folks found him intimidating, and could not get past his present coloring, she had always felt that he was strikingly handsome

Here Norton will return with breakfast, and they will eat and converse as they did when hank was still living at home. Edna will ask about Anna, and Hank will mention that he occasionally stays there at night. Norton will disapprove, but hank will assure them both that Anna is a dear frined and the entire situation is proper.

Edna will notice how he speaks of her, and believes that there is more to the friendship than he realizes. He grows somber as he realizes that he will have to break off his association with Anna, and his parents urge him to think about it carefully before he makes any final decisions on that front.

Not wanting to monopolize what little time he has left with his parents with a somber mood, Hank does his best to keep things light. He spends all the time he can with them, barely leaving them to sleep.

The final goodbyes are tearful, but Edna encourages them all. "You are clever, you will find a way to stay in touch with us, and remain undetected. We have faith in you all."


	12. LOADstone

The sights and smells of the city assailed his senses in a wild swirl of sensations that were both familiar and distant to him. It had been many years since he'd ventured into the center of a city of this size. Even during the Statue of Liberty fiasco, he'd only ventured so far as Ellis Island. He inhaled deeply, savoring the sickeningly sweet scent of corruption, death, and violence that lay beneath the stink of smog and the oblivious but unconsciously fearful clamor of the streets.

He scratched at his close-cropped hair and grinned at the gasp of fright from the weasely little man in the business suit next to him. Victor turned his gaze on him and saw that his eyes were riveted on Victor's clawed hands. He chuckled with delight at the other's fear and let loose with a low animal growl out of pure maliciousness.

The man let out a squeal and bolted, glancing back at Victor in terror as he careened through the crowd.

Smiling to himself, Victor continued on his way.

He had come to New York in search of Eric Lenshire. The old Mutant had effectively disappeared after the attack on Worthing Labs, but Victor had tracked him down by combining a few of Lenshire's backup pseudonyms to find his current whereabouts. He had recently certified as a welder with one of the larger construction companies. It was only a matter of looking up all the current projects that company was working on, and visiting the sites. He'd had to call in a number of favors and make a few threats, but all in all, it wasn't hard.

He spent the next few days walking the city, sniffing out the various construction sites and watching for any sign of Lenshire. During the evenings he prowled the parks and alleys for likely victims, robbing them for whatever cash they had, and then dumping the rest of their stolen valuables in the East river. At one point, he indulged himself with the girlfriend of some gang banger he had robbed after watching him pocket a nice wad of cash after a deal. She had given it up eagerly enough, ready to sideline her dying boyfriend in favor of her own well-being, but it wasn't long before she was regretting _that_ decision.

He smiled grimly to himself. Her screams had been sweet to his ears, and her blood gratifying to him. But it had been less than he'd expected it to be. He couldn't help but to remember _her_. Her scent alone was enough to drive him crazy, but when he'd tasted her _blood_…Just the memory of her made him shudder and his groin ache.

He shoved away from the wall of the alley he'd been watching from, his temper starting to rise. He had to stay calm, focused. He couldn't afford to go off half-cocked this time. With that metal skeleton, Jimmy was too strong for him to take down on his own. But Lenshire was the key.

He strode through the crowded streets with a bubble of space all around him. The other pedestrians seemed to subconsciously sense that he was dangerous, and none of them was inclined to come anywhere near him.

He mulled his plan over in his mind. He had to be careful; Lenshire was smart, and couldn't be trusted. He wouldn't put it past the old bastard to try and use _her_ to control him, if he ever found out about her. Victor wandered aimlessly for a long time, his thoughts dark and calculating.

He was passing by the park when an errant breeze blew him the very scent he was looking for. He froze in his tracks and focused. His instincts kicked in, and he followed the scent of his quarry into the park. He finally came upon a cluster of tiny stone tables with small stone benches on either side. Many were occupied by old codgers playing chess, and the occasional kid playing with his grampa.

Victor stayed well back in the stunted trees that grew here in the city, and scanned the group at the tables. His eyes fell up on a lone figure, bundled to the ears against the evening's chill. Many people came and went, but none sat down or even approached him.

The old codger sat there for an hour or so. Finally, he reached out slowly for the cane resting against the table, and hauled himself to his feet.

"It's about _time_."

Victor waited until he had shuffled off out of sight, and then followed along a parallel course. He caught sight of his quarry as he slowly turned down a shabby side street lined on both sides with dilapidated old apartment buildings.

Staying in the shadows, Victor crept slowly up the street, and caught a clear whiff of the man's scent. He grinned with satisfaction. The scent was a little off, but it was definitely Lenshire.

There was a light tinkle as he pulled out a set of keys and started up the three steps to the front door to a run-down old three story building.

"Well," Lenshire called out in a clear, unsurprised voice. "Don't be shy my boy, come in."

Victor spots Magneto sitting alone at a chess table, bundled to the ears in hat, scarf, jacket, and gloves. A few minutes after he spots him, Magneto gets slowly to his feet and shuffles off. Victor follows discreetly. He follows Lenshire to a run-down apartment a few blocks away. As he pulls out a key to unlock the front door, he calls out to Victor. "Don't be shy my boy, come in."

Victor smiles, not terribly surprised that lenshire had made him, but secretly irritated at himself for being detected at all.

Inside Lenshire heats up a pot of tea on an old gas stove and settles himself in at a rickety table. You've changed, Lad. The trim suits you,"

Victor looks around in mild surprise. He questions lenshire on his purpose in this dump. Lenshire goes cold and demonstrates his greatly diminshed ability. He explains how he was struck down with a cure weapon, and how he was rebuilding his abilities.

Victor is at first put off, shocked and sorely disappointed. He makes up his mind to leave when Magneto asks for his assistance in restoring his abilities. He's heard rumors that some of the other mutants whom had been hit with the cure weapons had, under severe duress, begun to exhibit a strong return of their abilities, though all had died shortly thereafter, some having taken their assailants into the grave with them. His plan was to break into the University and put himself into the huge Electro Magnet they had built there. He believed that doing so would stress his body and force a return of his full ability.

When the possibility of death is mentioned, he stares out of the window and makes some pronouncement of death being preferable to this existence of stolen Godhood. Victor agrees to help him. As Erik dtirs his tea, he asks why Victor came looking for him. He decides to tell Lenshire that he wants what Stryker promised him and he needs Erik's help in getting it. Erik states that the only source of Admantium he knows of is in Wolverine. Victor smiles. "Exactly."

Erik is still murderously enraged at the x-team for their part in stealing his ability, so he readily agrees to help Victor in return for his assistance.

They decide to do the job alone, and manage to sneak into the university through one of the other departments' entrance. A few security guards get killed, and they have the access keys they need to get into the applied Technology department. They find the super magnet, and manage to get it running. Erik places himself in side and is tortured and tormented by the massive force being directed at his body. He feels his power beginning to return, and then with a sudden, crushing rush, it explodes into full bloom, just as he loses consciousness.

Victor, fearing that Magneto is dying, tears apart the mechanism that feeds power, and drags Lenshire out of the machine as police surround the place. He takes Lenshire back to his tiny apartment and watches over him as he recovers.

Eric removed his shoes and stepped into the acceleration chamber. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath; quite possibly his last.

"Turn it on, Lad."

Victor flipped on the line of switches and hit the big red button. The entire room began to hum and buzz. Within the chamber, Eric could feel the steadily growing forces assailing his body. The air itself began to vibrate, and his power began to respond. He seized his ability and struggled to force it to take control of the magnetic field that was battering him, but the field was already too strong, and he felt himself flapping uselessly in the current of magnetic forces bearing down on him.

The air vibrated harder, and he began to feel the physical toll the Electromagnets were taking on his body. His head felt as if it were being crushed in an enormous vise, and his teeth clattered together so violently that he knew they would surely shatter soon. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms protectively around his head.

His instincts screamed at him to escape. His body withered beneath the pressures being exerted upon it. But beneath it all, he began to _feel _the currents with sharper clarity. The change was slight, but it gave him a taste of his former might, and he clutched at that miniscule change with everything he had. He _would_ have his power back, or he would die trying.

He seized his power again, and this time, instead of seeking control, he merely stood his ground. The currents pushed and shoved at him, smashing against his defenses with mindless and implacable impetus. He fell forward and shuddered, unable to withstand the brutal, invisible attack on his senses. But still he persisted, sensing that the internal struggle between the "Cure" and his own divine nature was soon to come to an ultimate and inevitable conclusion.

His vision began to blur, but he could _see_ the forces moving around him. He smiled, as he gazed lovingly into the face of his oldest and dearest friend, and then spiraled out of control into the abyss.

Victor watched in chagrin as the antiquated mutant collapsed.

"Don't die on me yet you looney old bastard." He growled under his breath.

The old man fell on his face, and he cussed violently. He watched for a minute longer, knowing that the crazy old fool had finally offed himself. He was just about to leave him for the police to find when he heard a tremendous thud, and the screech of tortured metal.

Within the chamber, the writhing air came to a sudden standstill, and a huge chunk of the machine suddenly tore itself away from the whole and crashed to the ground.

"He did it. The crazy sonofabitch did it!" He muttered in disbelief. From out in the hall, the distant voices of the campus police could be heard as they came in search of the intruders and the source of all the noise.

He hurriedly jumped the barriers and scooped up the limp form of his erstwhile leader, and fled.


	13. A Parting of the Ways

Hank McCoy sat at the table he'd reserved for himself and Anna, watching the other diners and checking his watch every few minutes. Eight minutes to seven. There was still almost twenty minutes until she was supposed to be here. He checked his watch again. Seven minutes to seven.

He sat back impatiently and sighed. He really wasn't looking forward to this meeting tonight. The attacks on the families of the X-team had been traumatic for everyone, and luckily, no one had been hurt badly, though his own mother was still in the hospital. Everyone else had been quietly moved and they all were now living alternate lives in relative safety among friendly mutants all around the country. Some had even been moved to other continents.

However, the threat remained. He was a very visible public figure, and had played a big role in the battle to save Jimmy at Worthington Labs. Attempts on his life were to be expected; he could handle those on his own. However the thought of putting Anna's life on the line was unacceptable.

But would he be able to go through with ending their friendship? He wilted a little at the thought.

"Right this way, madam."

His head snapped up and his heart swelled when he saw her.

Her hair was pulled up in a French twist, with two spiraling locks falling along either side of her face. Her eyes seemed to stand out sharply, catching one's attention, though it did not appear that she was wearing heavy makeup. Her lips looked full and sparkled, yet it looked as if she wore only a glittery lip gloss. He chuckled inwardly. By her own admission, she knew little about the more "girly" skills in regard to hair and makeup. She had obviously been practicing.

She wore a dark green, knee-length, A-line gown with spaghetti straps and a slightly paler green silken wrap. Her shoes were delicate little pumps with web-like straps and open toes. He noted in passing that she'd had a pedicure as well. He was flattered that she would take such pains for a dinner with him.

When she smiled at him he couldn't help but smile back. She was always so happy to see him, and it showed in every part of her. It warmed and humbled him, and made him feel all the more an ass for what he was about to do.

He rose to his feet and held his arms out to her. She stepped into him comfortably and hugged him hard.

"Ohhh, I've _missed_ you, Hank," she breathed. "It's so good to see you!"

Unable to resist, he squeezed her back, enjoying the moment of genuine affection between them. Lord knew that it would probably be the last. Forever, if not just for a long time.

She pulled back and kissed his cheek. They stood wordlessly for a moment before Hank pulled himself together and gestured to her seat. The Maitre d' held her chair for her as they sat, and inquired after her choice of drink. She declined in favor of water and leaned over the table excitedly. The waiters brought their meal, fussing with the place settings, and Anna wriggled impatiently.

"So tell me all about it."

They talked as they ate, Hank filling in the somber details of his trip, Anna listening raptly. Her emotions flickered openly across her features. When he spoke of the attack on his family, her eyes grew stricken and she seized his hand, demanding to know if they were alright. The expression of empathy that crossed her features brought a lump to his throat and rendered him speechless for a moment. She sat patiently, holding his hand and smiling encouragingly for him. When he spoke of the team's decision to cut off all ties to their non-mutant friends and families, her eyes welled up with tears.

"Oh, Hank, that's horrible! As if the team hasn't already been through enough!"

As he finished his tale, they sat back from their plates and sighed.

"This brings me to my reason for asking you out tonight, Anna."

She picked up her water goblet and took a sip. "That sounds ominous," She said with a frown.

"Indeed it is," He murmured. He took a deep breath, paused to clear his throat, and tried again with his eyes downcast. "This trip has brought into focus the dangers implicit in being close to me or any of the other X-men. I find that I can't allow myself to put you in that kind of danger."

He glanced up at her. She sat, frozen, with her eyes wide and her glass halfway to her lips. Her face was blank and she sat very still.

"Anna," He said softly, barely able to speak the words. "For your sake, we have to stop seeing one another."

She blinked several times, her expression still blank, and lowered her eyes. Hank looked away, feeling like a prick. This was the right thing to do, but it hurt like nothing he'd experienced before.

"The people behind these attacks are mutant." He tried to explain further. "Without any means to protect yourself…Perhaps if you had some extraordinary abilities…"

At that moment, the wait staff came to clear away their plates and the Maitre d' offered them dessert. Hank almost gratefully turned his attention to him, glad for the distraction. Throughout the bustle around the table, Anna remained silent.

As the Maitre d' finished taking their dessert order from Hank, Anna quietly asked to be directed to the ladies' room. She rose from her seat with her eyes lowered and listened mutely. Hank stood politely until she had passed by him on her way to the restroom.

He sat again, and fiddled nervously with the stem of his glass. If this was the right thing to do, then why did he feel like such an ass? He sat musing sourly, waiting for her to return.

Over the soft music of the quartet and the quiet tinkle of crystal and flatware, he could hear the subdued tones of Anna's all-too-familiar voice. _That was fast_, he thought. He turned in his seat, readying himself to stand when she got back to the table.

Across the room, she was speaking to the Maitre d'. Something exchanged hands and he offered her his arm. Frowning, Hank slowly stood. He started forward as the two left the restaurant. Through the windows, he could see the Maitre d' waving down a cab. He moved faster as one pulled immediately up to the curb. He burst through the doors just as the cab was pulling away with Anna in the back seat.

He stared helplessly at the receding tail lights, surprised and a lot more hurt than he'd thought he would be. He swallowed hard and ran his hands through his hair. Of course she'd be upset. What had he expected? But this…This was _not_ how he'd wanted their friendship to end.

_Bravo, Henry. What do you do for an encore?_


	14. Don't Get Creedy

"So what is the next step, Mr. Creed?"

Graydon toyed idly with the papers that held the hidden message reporting the success of the attacks on the Pryde and McCoy families, and the disastrous results of the attack on the Drake family.

He ground his teeth together and angrily crumpled the papers into a ball. With a negligent flip, he tossed it into the metal garbage can next to his desk and turned to face his second in command.

"Where is the footage we have of the Drake fiasco?"

"It was delivered today by what's left of our division there, Sir. It's in the safe now"

Graydon rubbed his face thoughtfully. "Find out if any of our sympathizers is any good with doctoring pictures or video, and send it to them. If we can make it look like those mutants were attacking the cops, that would go far in helping us to remove that _mutant_ _lover_ in the White House."

The man nodded with a faint smirk. "Yes sir. Shall I send word to continue the raids on the mutants' families?"

Creed sat back, disgruntled. "No. They've all gone underground somewhere. There's no point in destroying empty real estate." He leaned forward again, thoughtful. "But, let's see what we can do to put our own people into those homes instead. Where there's one rat, there's sure to be another. This could be the best way to drive them out of our neighborhoods."

"Very good sir," He said with a curt nod. "Our contact in Worthing Labs sent in a report that you might find interesting." He pulled a piece of paper with the Worthing Labs logo on it out of a stack of paperwork he was holding and handed it over to Graydon.

Creed scanned the paper briefly and gave his cohort a withering look. "I don't have time to read the whole thing. Summarize."

Dr. Emmerich has apparently found a virus that seeks out and attacks the Mutant gene. She believes that she can create something that will make Mutants very sick, but leave normal humans alone."

Graydon looked at the report with dark interest. "Well," he murmured. "Well, well, well…" He handed the report back to his assistant. "Get rid of that, but keep her name handy. I'd like to keep tabs on that particular scientist."

"Yes sir," the mousy little man said with another nod. "And lastly, the rumors of your presidential run have been discreetly leaked to various news groups, and as per your orders, we have refused to give any direct answer to requests for verification. As of now, the press is positively drooling with anticipation over your upcoming press conference."

Graydon smirked with satisfaction. "Is my speech ready?"

He turned and the little man held out a series of note cards. He took the proffered speech and scanned through it quickly. "Good…good. Though here, I think it needs to sound a little more regretful. The world needs to really believe that I had nothing to do with the attacks, and this needs to be a little more…condemning of the perpetrators. 'Violence is not the answer,' and all that."

With an emotionless expression, the man turned away.


	15. Reunited and it Feels so Good

The autumn night air had a sharp bite and the sky was crystal clear. The usual sounds of the city echoed off the buildings, falling upon sharp ears that both heard and didn't hear them; Ears that were so accustomed to the sound of the city that it had become mere white noise.

Those ears belonged to the dark, furry shadow perched on a rooftop across the street from a two story four-plex apartment building with a large balcony projecting out over the street from the second floor. It was the place the shadowy figure has sat perched every night for the last two weeks to watch the same building and its lone occupant.

His ear twitched at the sound of footsteps approaching, but he did not move or acknowledge the newcomer.

The visitor came without subterfuge or stealth and braced a hand on the ledge where the watcher crouched, to vault over and sit beside him. He sat silently for a long time. His nose tested the air and his ears too heard and ignored the sounds of the city.

"So," the visitor began. "Reduced from Ambassador to the United Nations to stalker in about a month, eh?"

Hank McCoy, the watcher, took in a deep breath but said nothing. Across the street a flicker of movement caught their attention and they turned to watch in silence. A woman appeared at the balcony doors. She wore a white muscle tee and baggy flannel pajama bottoms. Her hair was bound atop her head in a messy bun. From where the two sat, they could see the slack unhappiness in her face. She stepped out onto the balcony and wrapped her arms around herself.

McCoy's shoulders slumped eve more. "Still no music," he muttered sadly.

"What?"

"She hasn't been listening to any music for almost a month."

"So?"

Hank looked over at Logan as if he were missing the obvious. "She always has music playing, Logan." He looked back at the woman he'd been watching for weeks. "She likes to live her life to a soundtrack. Quiet bothers her. She is the most afraid when she surrounded with silence."

They watched as she sat on a bench with her back to them, staring inward silently.

Hank dropped his face into his hands miserably. "She's so unhappy, and it's my fault Logan. I did this to her. I'm the one that hurt her."

"Well, go apologize. Then you two can kiss and make up."

"We're just friends, Logan. She doesn't feel that way about me."

"But you feel "that way" about her, right?"

"Yes." He said firmly and without hesitation. "Though it took hurting her to make me realize it."

"And she's sitting over there in her P.J.s, in the freezing cold, and giving up something she loves dearly all because she doesn't have "That kind of feelings" for you. Right?"

Hank didn't answer. He instead refocused on Anna, frowning thoughtfully.

"So you're going to sit here where you've been every night for the past few weeks, miserable, while she sits over there letting herself freeze, just as miserable as you are?" He got up and shook his head. He slid off the ledge and walked over to the roof door.

"I never had a chance to be with Jean before…" He stopped and swallowed hard. "You're an idiot and asshole if you don't take advantage of this chance at being happy.

Logan stepped through the door and paused before closing it. "So you screwed up. How is pouting about it going to fix it? Go kiss and make up." He smirked and squinted at McCoy. "You won't regret it. She's a good kisser."

He closed the door behind him, leaving Hank alone once more. He stared over at Anna, worried that she was getting cold. He wanted to hake her in his arms so badly. He _needed_ to see her happy again.

_Kiss and Make Up._

His heart began to pound excitedly. He sighed and squared his shoulders. _Alright._ He thought. _I'll go talk to her. I should have done that weeks ago._ He stood and prepared to jump down to street level.

"Wait a moment," He said aloud. How the hell would Logan know she was a good kisser? A belligerent feeling began to well up in his chest. He almost went after him when Anna stood up and slowly moved back into the Apartment.

_Anna. _Aw hell, Logan could wait.

The hairs on her arms were standing up straight in the cold, but she had a hard time caring. Her mind swirled with thoughts, emotions and memories. She longed for the empty silence she had hated so much before…

She shook herself away from that thought. She was tired. She was always tired nowadays. Her spark had been extinguished and now she had to work at _living_. She just felt…_deflated_.

She laid her head back against the rim of the balcony railing behind her and sighed. Finally acknowledging her body's chill, she got up and shuffled dispiritedly toward the balcony doors.

"What light, through yonder window breaks?"

She froze with her hand on the doorknob at the sound of that painfully familiar voice. Her entire body tensed and tears threatened to well up and spill out of her overflowing eyes. The sound of his achingly beautiful and resonant voice sent that same old thrill through her body and her heart leapt at the thought of having him near again.

Yet the pain of the last month was still too fresh to ignore.

For what seemed an eternity she stood at the door, wanting to throw herself over the balcony and into his arms, and yet wanting to pretend that she hadn't heard.

"It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon."

Dammit. She took a deep breath and turned back to the balcony. Too afraid to hope for a reunion and renewal of their friendship, she pulled a wall of indifference around her. She leaned over the railing and saw him gazing up at her from below. Her heart betrayed her and throbbed at the joy of seeing him again.

"Hey," she called in what she hoped was a neutral tone.

"Good evening, Anna. May I come in?"

"Yeah, I'll come open the door." She moved back toward the balcony doors. She heard a couple of grunts and turned in time to see him sail smoothly over the rail. She smiled in spite of herself. His physical prowess never ceased to amaze her and it was always a turn-on. She quickly stifled _that_ physical twinge and her smile faded.

She led he way inside. Henry straightened his suit nervously and followed. She moved on into the kitchen. "May I offer you something to drink?" She glanced up and noticed that he was still standing just inside the balcony doors, staring at her like a puppy who'd just chewed up something valuable and was expecting a rolled up newspaper across the nose.

"No, thank you."

She gestured to one of the chairs at the breakfast bar. He thanked her again and settled into the chair closest to her. The silence stretched out uncomfortably between them. Unsure of how to start a conversation, she turned to the cabinets and gathered what she needed to make a hot chocolate. The familiar actions relaxed her enough to allow her brain to function properly.

"So what brings you all the way out here?" She asked, trying to break the awkward silence. Not, she told herself, because she loved the sound of his voice and so desperately needed to hear it again. _Right, keep telling yourself that, woman._

"I wanted to see how you were doing, Anna."

She shrugged noncommittally. "I'm doing alright I guess. Been keeping busy and all."

She plunked a pot of milk on the stove and cranked up the heat.

"You don't listen to your music anymore."

She stared unseeing at the wall in front of her. "I guess I've not been in the mood lately." She refocused and snagged a spoon to stir the milk.

"You're working a lot more hours, too. You've been coming home late and exhausted for weeks. You hardly ever turn on the lights anymore, and tonight is the first time you've used the balcony in almost a month. That doesn't seem alright to me."

Her back and shoulders stiffened. She could feel the heat rise in her face. She rounded on him, and fixed him with a glare. "What the hell do you care?" She snapped bitterly. "Yes, I'm working a lot more and wearing myself out. I don't use the lights because I'm not home enough to need to. And I don't listen to music anymore because I don't want to!"

She turned her back on him and angrily dumped cocoa powder into her mug. She nearly burned herself with the hot milk as she splashed it, too into her cup. She took a deep breath to calm herself and turned back to him, stirring her cocoa. She stared angrily into her cup at the globs of soggy cocoa mix floating on top of the milk and silently cursed herself for letting her anger ruin a good cup of cocoa.

"Look, this whole situation has been really awful. It's taken weeks for me to get past it and try to move on. I can't take rehashing this again!" She plunked her mug down opposite him and glared. "So can we _please_ get to the point of this visit? Why are you here?"

His face bore an unreadable expression as he struggled to find the words. "I'm here for the same reason that I have come here every night for the last two weeks. For the same reason that I have been miserable for the last month.

"I hurt my dearest friend.

"I foolishly made a decision for the both of us without first consulting you or considering your feelings on the matter. I suppose I just didn't realize how you really felt."

She slapped her spoon down on the counter, seething. "Then you're either blind, or an idiot!" She snapped

"Yes," he admitted, meeting her eyes. "And, I also failed to take into account my own feelings for _you_."

Hands balled into fists, Anna squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. Her body began to shake and tears stubbornly refused her command to stay away and poured down her cheeks. Before she even realized it, she was enfolded in his arms and sobbing against his chest.

"Oh, Anna. Can you ever forgive me for being an inconsiderate ass?"

"I've m-m-m-missed y-you s-s-so m-m-much!" She sobbed.

"Lord woman, but I have missed you too." He breathed as he crushed her against him. "More than I could stand."

Anna struggled to regain control. It felt so damn good to be in his arms. His body was warm and firm, yet she felt comfortable pressed against him. His body conformed to hers, as if they were meant to be together like this. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the moment and enjoy this.

But bitterness over the last month welled up inside her like bile. This moment was what she'd been dreaming of, but what if it wasn't what she thought it was? Whether she liked it or not, she had to get a grip on herself. She had to make absolutely sure of his intent to stay. She _would_ _not_ go through another month of this.

With a titanic effort and a growl of frustration, she gripped his lapels in her fists and pushed herself roughly away from him. He stared at her in near panic, but kept his peace and gave her room to gather herself and speak her mind.

Inexplicably terrified, she took several deep breaths. Better to be straight forward. Get it over with quick…like a bandaid, right? Right

"Before this goes any further, you need to know that I'm in love with you." He blinked but said nothing. "I've worked for weeks to get over you, and I don't know if I can stand going through all that again. So if you don't feel the same, we need to part ways now."

He stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes softened and he smiled gently at her. He took a step forward with a hand extended. With tears streaming down her face, she took his hand and fell again into his arms. His fingers gently lifted her chin and his soft lips found hers. She sighed with relief. For so long she had looked forward to his kiss, and for the last month she'd thought it was a hopeless dream. Now, with his body pressed tightly to hers, she nearly swooned with delight.

The rest of the evening floated past on a cloud. They had moved to the couch and sat close to talk. As they chatted, Anna had touched the console on the coffee table and turned on the stereo. Soft music filled the background and she settled back into Hank's arms with a contented sigh.

Their soft conversation continued until well after midnight. They both spent half of the time yawning until Anna put an end to it.

She stood up and stretched, yawning hugely. A familiar song came on over the radio and Hank caught her hand. He stood up and laid his other hand on her waist. He pulled her close and danced with her, his lead flawless. She felt as if she could purr. It felt so good to be in his arms. Without realizing what she was doing, she began singing along with the song.

"_Yes I know what's on your mind, when you say 'Stay with me tonight.'"_

Right on que, Hank too sang along. She smiled wide, tickled because he would sing along in his beautiful, deep, male voice. As he twirled her, she closed her eyes and sang happily. When they harmonized, it gave her a rush of excitement. He dipped her and she let her head fall back as she giggled with delight. When he brought her slowly back up, he gazed into her eyes with such intensity that it caught her breath. They stood staring into one another's eyes for a long time before he started them moving again.

The song ended and a DJ came on with his spiel. They separated reluctantly and Anna turned off the stereo.

"It's really late. Why don't you stay? I picked up some PJs for you a while back. They're in the top drawer of your dresser."

He nodded and they walked hand-in-hand toward his bedroom. Regretfully letting her go, he stepped into the spare room. He slipped gratefully out of his suit and was pleased to find that along with the pajamas, she'd bought him a few tee shirts, some jeans, and some underwear. He laughed when he realized she'd bought him the muscle shirts and flannel print pajama bottoms she herself loved so much.

He came out of his room and noticed that she'd already gone in to bed. He sighed regretfully and went into the big bathroom. Minutes later, he emerged and almost collided with Anna as she came out of the kitchen with a stack of disposable cups for the bathroom dispenser. She giggled sleepily and took over.

He waited several minutes for her to come out. Her face was freshly washed and she glowed with happiness. He held his arms out to her and kissed her tenderly, holding her tightly against him.

Regretfully, he let her go when she pulled away from him. As she moved toward her own room, he held on to her hand. She turned and looked at him, surprised. He pulled her into his arms again.

His brow furrowed and he spoke as if he was afraid to.

"Stay with me." He murmured softly.

Caught off guard, her jaw dropped and she blinked. Her wonderfully expressive face flickered through several emotions in the space of a few heartbeats. She obviously wanted to, but he could see her reluctance.

"We don't have to make love." He pleaded softly "I've been away from you for too long, and I can't bear the thought of sleeping without you in my arms."

She wanted to. Heaven knew how much she wanted to. To be perfectly honest with herself, she wanted to do much more than just _sleep_ with him. However she knew she'd regret it later.

"I promise to be a perfect gentleman," he promised.

"It's not _you_ we need to worry about, Hank."

"Please, Anna. I need you close tonight." He whispered.

Her heart pounded. She knew she shouldn't, but she ached to be held again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Alright," she agreed quietly.

His smile made her decision all the more sweet. She gasped with surprise when he swept her up and carried her into his room. She began to tremble when he laid her gently on the bed.

"Oh, dear. Oh, dear, this was _such_ a bad idea." She muttered under her breath. Hank chuckled low in his throat and climbed into bed next to her. "_Such _a _bad_ idea." He lay down beside her and shifted so that her head came to rest on his chest and his arm curled around her shoulders.

The warmth of him was so comforting. His heavily muscled body was firm, but not uncomfortable against her. He looked even better in that "wife-beater" tee than she'd thought he would. Despite the thick fur, his muscles were clearly outlined by the tight material of the tee. The flannel PJ's were a little tight, though apparently not uncomfortable, and showed off his strong thighs _very_ nicely. Hoo boy. Definitely a BAD idea. She groaned and buried her face in his chest.

He chuckled drowsily and patted her shoulder consolingly. She laughed and settled in, already too sleepy to keep her eyes open. All in all, the day hadn't been such bad day after all.

The morning sun shone through the gauzy curtains to fall warmly across the couple sleeping contentedly in Hank's bedroom. Anna woke first. At first she wasn't sure where she was, and when she noticed the hot body curled up around her, she almost panicked.

Then memory of the previous night calmed and comforted her before she screamed. Carefully she rolled within the circle of his arms to face him. He stirred slightly, but quickly fell back into the slow, even breathing of sleep. She touched his face gently, tracing the line of his jaw. He was beautiful, even in his sleep. It made her heart ache to know that he was here with her.

Gently, she kissed his soft lips, her nose lightly brushing his. He stirred again, this time coming gradually awake. Before long, his lips were responding sleepily to her kisses. She sat back and watched him through half-lidded eyes.

His eyes opened languidly. He smiled drowsily for her. "Good morning my Lady Love."

She drew in a sharp breath, closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. "Say that again." She pleaded.

He propped himself up on one elbow and slid his other hand around the back of her neck. He kissed her tenderly. "My love," he said, and kissed her again. "My love." Another kiss. "My love."

Overwhelmed, she threw herself onto her back, flailed about excitedly, and gave a great whoop of joy.

"JOYGASM! Woo, hoo!"

She jumped on him, kissing him soundly, then bounced out of the bed. She hit a button on the night stand and filled the room with music.

Hank was taken aback. He lay there, surprised by her youthful exuberance. The obvious joy she felt never ceased to amaze him. He'd never really been loved like this before. A flickering memory of Trish tried to intrude, but he quashed it. That was another time and another woman. More importantly, it was in the past. Resolute, he put it firmly behind him and focused on the present.

Anna had danced out of the bedroom and now the music was playing throughout the rest of the house. When he emerged from the bedroom, a song with a Latin beat floated on the air. His lady danced through the kitchen as she prepared to make breakfast. She was so beautiful in her happiness that his heart ached, and he felt a familiar twinge elsewhere in his body.

He sniffed the air tentatively, but couldn't detect a hint of what she referred to as her "stink." He thought about it and realized that it was his own natural attraction to her. He smiled broadly, knowing it would make her happy to finally know for sure that his affection for her did not stem from her overactive pheromones.

Spotting the bottle of inhibitor, he snuck up behind her. She started slightly when his arms slid around her, then she settled back into his arms. He buried his nose in the spot where her neck and shoulder met and inhaled deeply. She smelled faintly of soap and the lotion she put the inhibitor in, but nothing else.

"Hmmm," he rumbled in her ear. "You smell good." Feeling her shiver against him, he planted soft kisses down her neck and over her shoulder.

She reached over and turned the inhibitor bottle around to double check the label. He reached out and gently turned it back around. "I'm sorry my Love, but that only works against the _excess_ pheromones you put out," he moved her gently, rocking their hips from side to side. Careful not to hurt her, he nibbled on her neck, letting his fangs drag against her skin. Her breath caught and she melted into him. "It won't protect you from a man's natural animal attraction to you."

Giggling naughtily she turned in his arms and slid her arms around his neck. She squinted at him with mild suspicion. "You mean, you don't smell…anything?" She left the question hanging for several seconds.

He gazed directly into her eyes. "Nothing."

She bit her bottom lip dubiously. "And you're still…"

He shifted and pushed her gently against the oven so he was hard against her. "_VERY_ attracted to you." He said firmly and kissed her.

She giggled shyly against his lips and slid her hands up against his chest. Feeling playful, he resisted the pressure of her hands against his chest and wrapped her in a bear hug. She laughed merrily and squealed when he tried to nip at her neck. He lifted her off the floor and flipped her over his shoulder.

"AACK! Hank! What are you _doing_?" She laughed. "Put me down! What're you…Henry Phillip McCoy! Don't you _dare_ take me back into the bedroom!" She screamed, howling with laughter.

Hank McCoy, Secretary of Mutant Affairs, Ambassador to the United Nations and X-Man, grunted like a caveman and carried his captive off to his cave. She kicked and screamed with helpless glee.

He kicked the door to his bedroom open and marched right up to the bed. With one smooth movement, he had her flopped beneath him on the bed.

Still laughing, but a little concerned, she held him back with her hands against his shoulders. "Hold on there Captain Caveman. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here!"

He grinned innocently down at her. "No to worry my dear. I'm just going to give you a little taste of what you do to me."

The next half-hour was one of the most pleasant thirty minutes of his life, and when it was over, it was _she_ who wanted to drag _him_ back into the bedroom.


	16. Old Country Hospitality

Hank fingered the little box in his pocket for the millionth time since he'd picked it up that afternoon. With an impatient sigh he checked his watch and struggled to refocus on the tedious meeting at hand.

"A little anxious, my friend?" Asked the wrinkled little ambassador from India with a sly little smile. "Could it have something to do with what you have in your pocket, hmmm?"

Hank glanced at him and smiled sheepishly. "You are too observant sometimes, Mohinder." He grumbled under his breath.

The old politician chuckled and patted Hank's arm consolingly. "So trot it out, boy! Let's see the chain you have chosen for yourself!"

He couldn't help but grin at his foreign counterpart and friend as he pulled the tiny, leather box out of his pocket and opened it carefully. Inside, nestled in a cushion of crushed velvet sat the engagement ring he had personally designed for Anna.

A perfect, clear diamond sparkled in the center of a ring of petal-shaped rubies set in a band of gold. A second, interlocking band of platinum held a pair of leaves studded with tiny emeralds that sat above and below the gemstone flower.

Mohinder adjusted his spectacles and tipped his head back to look through magnifying half of his bifocals. "What an unusual design," he mused, tipping the box this way and that. "It's very beautiful!"

Hank smiled broadly. "Anna loves unusual jewelry." He said, gazing absently at the ring. "Actually, she would have loved it even if it was costume jewelry, so long as it's unusual."

"Well congratulations, my friend," Mohinder said, handing the box back. "I'll be keeping my eyes open for the invitation!" He leaned closer to Hank and whispered conspiratorially "May I suggest serving Jhal-Muri and Rôshogolla at your wedding feast? My wife has a wonderful recipe for each. I will have her email it to you."

Hank grinned and clapped the older ambassador on the back as he turned his attention back to the meeting. _My wedding feast_ he thought to himself. He fingered the little leather box again, his heart thumping excitedly in his chest.

"Hello?"

"Good evening my love." Hank answered, ducking into the waiting car. "How are you holding up?"

Anna laughed and let out an overwrought groan. "I'm tired, sore, and I STINK!"

"Oh, dear! Well I certainly hope there aren't any males of the mutant persuasion in the nearby vicinity."

"Nope! Not even the one I _want_ to be nearby." She replied with a naughty snicker. "Actually, I'm just sweaty and smelly. Worked my tail feathers off, but I have achieved perfection!"

"Everything is ready then?"

"Yup!"

"And you are happy with the results?"

"Ecstatic!" She exclaimed, her voice muffled.

"Then I cannot wait so see the results of your intense labor, my lady."

There was more rustling and a soft grunt. "I can't wait for Sofia and Tony to see it!" She said amidst the ruckus. "I just _know_ they're going to love what I've done!"

"Anna, what _are_ you doing?"

She replied, but her voice was too muffled for him to understand.

"My love, I can't hear you."

She laughed and the commotion stopped. "Sorry, Hank. I just got home, and I'm getting undressed."

"Oh, really? Just a moment, my love." He lowered the phone and pressed the intercom button. "Jason, I have a hundred dollar bill for you if you can get me there in less than 30 minutes."

'You're _on_ Mr. Ambassador!" The engine roared as he accelerated.

Hank brought the phone up to his ear and could hear Anna's laughter. "No way, José!" In the background, he could hear the shower starting. "You'll never make it in time, so don't get the poor guy arrested or killed just so you can sneak a peek. Jeez," she muttered. "It's always the quiet ones you have to look out for!"

"You're damn right," He rumbled flirtatiously. "Fear not, fair Lady, for me nor yon charioteer. Just relax and enjoy a nice, long shower."

She laughed again. "Love you."

"Love you too. And remember, nice, long shower."

By the time Hank had arrived home, Anna had already showered and was getting dressed. She greeted him with a kiss as she rushed about putting on the finishing touches.

"I'm sorry to have to hurry out, Hank, but I have to be there before Tony and Sofia. I want to see their first reaction to my setup!" She explained as she balanced on one foot while she struggled to work the buckle on her heels.

Hank knelt in front of her and gently put her foot on his knee. "Allow me, my Lady." He rumbled flirtatiously. With surprising dexterity, he fastened and smoothed the tiny straps and slid his hand up to cup her calf. She gasped and giggled shyly when he kissed the top of her foot and then her knee. He was pleased to see her lips parted, her eyes half lidded, and a rosy blush across her cheeks.

She licked her lips and straightened her dress as he rose to his feet. "Hank, you take my breath away when you do things like that."

He grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "I'd like to do more than just take your breath away, my love."

She rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. "Heaven knows that I'd like to _let_ you."

"Hmmm?" Hank queried, amused.

"Nothing, nothing," She answered as she kissed his cheek and slipped out of his arms. "I'm going to be late."

He grabbed at her playfully, and she skipped nimbly out the door, pausing only long enough to blow him a kiss. "See you at seven!"

As he stepped out of the car, the crooning of Tony Bennet could be heard as it drifted from the open doors of the Trattoria Italia. A large sign had been hung in the window declaring the restaurant closed for a private celebration. As he approached the door, he could hear the clinking of glassware and the relaxed, good-natured laughter that always accompanies family gatherings.

Inside, the lights were dimmed. Across the ceiling, yards and yards of black paper had been stapled to the tiles, and hundreds of tiny white lights shone through holes punched through the paper. Along the walls stood fairly authentic-looking street lamps that provided the bulk of the lighting.

A small area near the back had been cleared of tables, and a temporary dance floor had been laid down. Above it, in place of a mirrored ball, hung a large white globe that had been spray painted to resemble the moon. Against the front window sat a park-like bench, surrounded by potted plants and sitting beneath an arch that had been wrapped in silk vines and flowers.

Everywhere there were little touches that added a touch more of the detail Anna had been trying so hard to put into the decorations. Here there was a picture borrowed from the Mariano's home, there sat a rocking chair from Tony's mother, and in places of honor around the room stood knick-knacks and various pieces of decorative pottery that had come from the "Old Country."

He stood gazing about the room, terribly impressed with her ingenuity and her eye for detail. Apparently, he wasn't the only one. As Tony and his wife greeted friends and family around the room, they frequently stopped to gaze at a particularly precious memory, or paused to wipe a tear from Sophia's eye.

A small hand slipped into the crook of his arm, and he turned to see Anna smiling happily up at him. "Do you see that?" she said proudly, referring to Sophia's teary laughter. "That means success!"

"Indeed." He agreed, laying his arms around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. She snuggled in close to him and laid her head against his chest with a contented sigh.

"Fifty years," She said in a tone of wonder. "I just can't imagine it."

Hank glanced down at her and slid his hand into his pocket and around the ring box.

"Anna, " He began

"Well now AnaBella, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?"

They looked up to see Sofia and Tony standing on the other side of a table from them, eying Hank coolly.

"Mama and Papa Mariano," Anna replied with a smile. "This is my…Sweetheart, Henry McCoy."

Hank held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you at last, Mr. and Mrs. Mariano. May I offer my congratulations on your Anniversary?"

Tony shook the proffered hand and eyed the hulking blue figure before him. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Ambassador."

"Hank, Please, Sir."

Without taking his eyes from Hank, he spoke to his wife. "Sofia, why don't you and AnaBella go see if the food is ready?"

Anna blinked, surprised and followed a little reluctantly. Tony gestured to a seat and sat himself across from Hank. He maintained his smile, but could sense a little hostility in the air. Though he remained outwardly calm, he was a little worried when several other male family members moved closer to surround their Patriarch.

"So, Henry. It looks like our little AnaBella is fond of you."

Hank smiled in his most disarming manner. "And I am very fond of her."

Tony scowled paternally. "She is not like other young women. She is special. My little AnaBella has seen much pain in her life."

Hank nodded. He knew that Anna's story for her circumstances was that her husband and children had been killed in an accident and she had no other family to speak of. He also knew that the Marianos had taken her under their wing and "adopted" her into the family, so he chose not to become angry that they were so overprotective of his beloved. Even though he _did_ see her first.

He nodded in agreement and waited for Tony to continue.

Tony's eyes narrowed and the hostility became painfully apparent. "She does not need someone in her life with certain…intentions. She is a good girl and deserves to be treated with respect."

Unsure of what Tony was getting at, but disliking the direction the conversation was taking, his brow furrowed and he nodded slowly. "Of course."

Tony leaned in closer and spoke in a low voice. "I will not stand idly by and let her be mistreated and disrespected by someone like _you._"

Hank went cold. Not this. Not with these people. Anna loved them so much, this would break her heart. He sat back, the anger swelling in his chest. "Someone like me." He repeated coldly. "You mean Mutants."

Tony blinked and frowned at him as if he'd gone crazy. "No." He said, perplexed. "_Politicians_." He spat.

It was Hank's turn to blink in surprise. He sat back, relief and mild disbelief washing over him. "Politicians?" he asked for clarification.

"_Politicians_." Tony said as if it was a dirty word.

"And you have no issue with my being a Mutant?"

The men around Tony laughed. The vase on the table suddenly rose to hang in the air in front of Hank. It plunked down heavily and one of them punched another in the arm.

"You're getting better at that Lou!"

Before Hank could comment, the water in the vase snaked its way up and out and formed itself into the shape of a naked woman.

"Alright, alright boys," Tony said waving a dismissing hand at them. He refocused on Hank and leaned in again. "You see, for a long time, she talks about nothing but you. She's happy, we see where things are going, and then BOOM! Our little songbird isn't singing anymore, she doesn't talk about you anymore, and for a month, we watch our little AnaBella wilt like a dying flower.

"You Politicians, women don't mean anything to you. You get tired of one, you move on to the next. I've seen her unhappy because of you, and I don't want to see that ever again. So I ask you, what are your intentions toward my girl?"

Feeling buoyant with relief, Hank reached into his pocket and produced the ring box.

Tony took it and examined the ring appreciatively. "Very nice." He murmured. He closed the box with a snap and handed it back to Hank. "I think she will like it very much."

He stared at the little box in his hand and smiled "I think she will like it too."

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "I may not be her father, but I love her like my own flesh and blood. You may have my blessing on one condition."

Hank raised an eyebrow and nodded for him to continue.

"Do not propose tonight."

Hank frowned. "May I ask why?"

"My AnaBella…she has given my wife and I a wonderful gift this night." He replied with a grand gesture to the room in general. "Though we are not her family, she has put as much love and care into tonight as our own children have, with no thought of reward or thanks. She deserves something as equally well-planned as what she has done for us."

Tony tapped the ring box in Hank's hand. "A proposal isn't just about the ring. A proposal is about the woman you love, and what better way to show her that you love her than to make the asking of that one question as memorable as possible?"

Tony sat back and crossed his arms with a knowing nod. "Women the world over will tell the story of her proposal when she's showing off her ring. It's your job to see that her story is better than anyone else's."

Hank frowned thoughtfully. As eager as he was to propose, he had to agree with Tony. Anna deserved something better. He sighed regretfully and stashed the box away. Tony clapped him on the shoulder in approval.

"Gino! Bring out the wine! We're celebrating over here!"

The food was almost ready when they went back into the kitchen. Despite her vehement protests that Sofia was supposed to be enjoying the party, the stubborn woman dragged her around the kitchen, tasting this or that, and adjusting the dishes on the serving trays, so that everything was just so.

Periodically, Sofia would glance out the window, into the dining room, but she seemed unperturbed and would hurriedly find something else for Anna to do.

She rolled her eyes and kissed Sofia on the cheek, then went back to doing as she'd been told.

When tony called for the wine, Sofia put down her wooden spoon and selected two of the plates and piled them higher with meat and pasta. She handed one plate to Anna, and gestured for her to take a second, less full plate as well.

Once they were loaded down, she led the way out of the Kitchen, to the collective relief of the Kitchen staff. Anna glanced back and winked knowingly at them. One of them made shooing gestures at her.

Across the room, just in front of the big picture window, Hank stood among a group of the Mariano men, holding a glass of deep red wine and laughing with his tie hanging loose and his jacket hanging on the back of a chair.

Tony greeted Sofia with a kiss and sat down his wine to take the plate from her. The surrounding family inhaled deeply of the heavenly aromas and hurried off to get their own plates.

A little puzzled, but relieved that Hank had been made welcome, she set his plate down in front of him, and sat down next to Tony.

_Anna is finally allowed to return to Hank. She and the women all bring plates of food for him and the other men, and wine is poured liberally. _

_Anna sips duitifully, but doesn't like wine, and so she doesn't finish hers. Hank is impressed and before the night is out, he has melded into the group like an old pro, and is standing with the men, tie gone, shirt unbuttoned, and wine glass in hand, laughing and telling stories with the rest. _

_Anna is siting with the matriarch and they are watching their men fondly. The older woman thanks her for all her effort and tells her that Hank reminds her of her own husband when they were courting. _


	17. All I Want for Christmas

Anna and the students have worked tirelessly to create a Christmas banquet. She has made this a final grade for the semester.

The students create a gingerbread mansion, and using their various gifts have created an edible winter wonderland for the other staff and students to enjoy. This is a formal party of sorts, and for all the students with parents unable to provide formal attire, a few of the talented students help make formal gowns with the help of Meggan, who has shown a remarkable gift for fashion design and creation. Some of the girls are a little leery of wearing a handmade gown. Anna, knowing Meggan's tendency to be oversensitive, asks the girl to make a gown for her. When the others see meggan's work, they are eager to have her make their gowns as well. Anna takes on an extra part-time job with an entertainment company to help provide the materials needed.

There is the gingerbread mansion, a drink fountain made to look like the fountain in the formal gardens, and all manner of holiday foods and treats in fantastic holiday shapes. Bobby assists with an ice sculpture for the occasion, and many of the other students have assisted with the decorations.

Although they are proud and excited about the work done for the party, anna's students are exhausted, and before long are dozing in chairs and couches around the main dining room.

Outside the main dining room, a horde of chattering children gabbled and fidgeted excitedly as they waited for the doors to open. Decked in colorful formal and semi-formal attire, they all looked older and much more mature than their teen and "Tween" years. Hank watched them all with bemused fascination, thinking them not unlike the hundreds of guests at the President's formal holiday party the previous week. Although he had to admit that _these_ party goers' jollity and excitement was infinitely more innocent and pure than that of his fellow politicians and their entourages. It was refreshing and a much more pleasant atmosphere to be part of. At least he didn't have to worry about the motivations of this particular group of revelers.

The door he was leaning against bumped into him and he hurriedly stepped away. A Grinning Ororo stepped out of the dining hall to announce the beginning of the Xavier's Institute Holiday party. Immediately all of the students refocused on her and quieted. She smiled and directed the organization of the group into a two-by-two line. Once they were ready, she returned to the head of the line and rejoined her old friend.

Hank took her hands and held them outspread so he could admire her gown. It was a stunning piece, Elegant and sophisticated that flattered her athletic figure beautifully. It was ingeniously designed to appear to be a tuxedo with a form-fitting floor-length skirt that flared out below the knee. Her pristine hair had been slicked back into a 1920's style with the elegant finger waves and a feathered and beaded barrette pinned to the side.

"My dear, you look stunning."

She smiled and stepped into his arms. "As always, you look wonderful, Hank," She kissed his cheek and gave him a mischievous grin. "But Anna looks even better." She said with a wink.

At the mention of her name, his heart sped up and he felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. Unconsciously his hand slipped into his pocket and he nervously fingered the tiny leather box hidden there. Excitement, nervousness and a hint of worry welled up within him, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself.

He tugged at his collar, straightened his jacket and offered Ororo his arm. She chuckled and shook her head at his fidgeting and patted his arm reassuringly. "It's good to see you so smitten Hank. You deserve it."

Touched, he kissed her hand and murmured his heartfelt thanks. They then turned to the doors.

Hank reached out and rapped sharply on the doors. At this prearranged signal, the twin sets of double doors opened wide to reveal the results of two months of the students' work. As they entered, they were greeted with a feathery snowfall (courtesy of Robert). The Windows were artfully frosted and mounds of seemingly fresh-fallen snow lay in piles just outside. Around the edges of the room, dozens of tables and chairs had been set up, and central on each was a beautifully made edible centerpiece. Near the Kitchen, several tables sat, heavily laden with a mouth-watering array of Holiday dishes from around the world. The sound of students inhaling deeply of those enticing aromas could be heard clearly over the thematic music playing low in the background.

In a corner opposite the kitchen, a low platform had been set up for the DJ, and spread out in front of it was a confectionary masterpiece; a gingerbread, icing and candy recreation of the mansion and its surrounding grounds. Students and faculty alike would later gather around the sculpture, sighing with awe and some would reach out a careful finger to brush against the lovingly recreated memorial markers for Professor Xavier, Jean Gray, and Scott Summers.

A wide, open square of the floor had been left clear for dancing. There stood the group of students whose hard work and dedication was about to be fussed over and eventually devoured. Each student stood before the masterpiece(s) he or she had created, looking both immensely proud of their accomplishment, and simultaneously horrified at the realization that it was all meant to be eaten.

At the forefront of the welcoming culinary artists stood Robert and Anna, who led the applause for all of her students' hard work.

When Hank's eyes fell upon her, he stopped dead in his tracks. She seemed a princess straight out of a fairy tale. She wore an strapless, A-line gown of pale green silk with a pair of long, flowing strips of delicate charmuse that hung freely from a broach at the center of the bodice, and from there were attached at the sides of the bodice, and then wrapped around her arms on either side. When she turned to applaud her students, he could see that the charmuse attached at either side of the zipper, to fall flowing once again all the way to the floor.

Her hair had been pulled up at the sides to fall in an elaborate cascade of curls down her back. Throughout her hair, tiny rhinestones sparkled like stars in a glittering profusion, further enhancing her fairy tale appearance.

As the students took their bashful bows, Anna turned, smiling, and caught sight of him. Her eyes widened, and her already broad smile widened further. With girlish enthusiasm she flew into his arms and kissed him soundly, but chastely. "I have _missed_ you, my Love." She breathed with a sigh of relief. "It's always good to talk to you, but I much prefer to have you close at hand."

"My sentiments exactly," he murmured, holding her tightly and nestling his nose in her hair. She made a happy little sound and regretfully pulled away. She took his arm and led him proudly around the room to join the crowds of students who were admiring the various displays of edible artwork, and offering praises to their creators.

The students were allowed a full half an hour to roam the room before the dinner buffet began. As they all took their seats, everyone glanced at one another and at the centerpieces. No one wanted to be the first to pull apart their friends' hard work. Piotr settled the problem by standing up and plucking the head off of the sculpture at his table and taking a big, sloppy bite of the sculpted melon. The room erupted with laughter and soon everyone was busily picking them apart and devouring them.

Dinner was filled with bright conversation, and everyone pitched in where he or she could. After dinner, the DJ cranked up the music and everyone moved toward the dance floor. He played to his multicultural audience with a wide selection of music, ranging from Salsa and Merengue to County, Rock, and Hip Hop. Hank and Anna were dancing to a lively Salsa when the room grew suddenly quiet and the kids near the door stopped and stared.

Hank, who stood much taller than most of the people in the room, craned his neck to see what the hubbub was about. He suddenly whistled in appreciation and grinned. "I wonder who managed that?"

Trying to see what was going on, Anna was hopping up and down, trying to see past the crowd between her and the door. "What is it Hank?"

He chuckled and lifted her up to sit on his arm. Too curious to be afraid, she didn't even squeak like she normally did when he picked her up.

She gave a surprised little gasp and touched her fingertips to her lips. There, standing in the door stood Logan. He was almost unrecognizable. His normally stubbled chin had been shaved clean, and his wild lamb chops had been shaved off. His unruly hair had been trimmed and slicked back and down. The most shocking twist of all; He was wearing a tux.

Hank carefully lowered her to the ground and she moved back into his arms. "He looks amazing, doesn't he, Hank?"

He nodded with a broad smile. "He cleans up, rather well, doesn't he? I am terribly curious to know who managed to get him into that tux, though."

She giggled wickedly and unsuccessfully tried to keep the smugness out of her expression.

"_YOU _did it? How?"

She assumed a lofty expression and replied airily. "If I told you that, I'd be betraying every woman since time began."

Hank laughed good naturedly and swept her into another dance. He pulled her close and touched his forehead to hers. "I'll bet I could get you to tell me," he rumbled teasingly.

"You're welcome to try," She said with a breathless challenge.

The twinkle in her eyes caught at his heart, and he remembered the ring in his pocket. His chest seemed to swell, making it difficult for him to breathe, and his heart began to pound in expectation. He raised his fingers to his lips and blew a single, sharp note. The DJ looked up and met his eyes. Some silent communication passed between them, then the DJ bent his head back to his equipment.

"What was that all about?" Anna asked as he whisked her across the dance floor. At that moment, the song changed.

It was _their_ song. It was a little silly, being a theme song from a Disney film, but it was theirs. It began softly and as it continued, everything else around them seemed to fade away until it was just them. They spun and whirled as they gazed into one another's eyes. As the song built to its crescendo, Hank stopped them and took a step back. He then got down on one knee and produced the ring box. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in stunned disbelief. The song had built to its soaring crescendo. Hank held out the open box, and gazing into her sparkling eyes, he mouthed, "Will you marry me?"

Around them, the room stood still as everyone nearby realized what was happening. Those closest alerted everyone around them, and in turn, they passed it on to those yet behind them. Yet though the murmuring could be heard over the music, Hank and Anna remained oblivious to everyone but one another.

Hank gently took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. Her eyes filled with tears of joyful surprise, and she stammered her reply. "Yes…Yes!" She threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him over and cried, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Thunderous applause shook them from their oblivious reverie, and they turned to receive handshakes, hugs, and share tears of joy with the rest of the Xavier Institute family. Bobby, Kitty, and Jubilee all pushed through the crowd first, crowing with delight. Marie followed soon after with Remy LeBeau at her side. Still leery of her newly acquired powers, She was sincere and boisterous in her congratulations, but refrained from hugging them. In her stead, Remy offered warm handshakes and a kiss on the cheek for Anna. Finally, they were joined by Ororo and Logan. The headmistress hugged them both, so happy she could hardly speak. She dabbed at her eyes with the decorative hankie from her Tuxedo Gown and gushed happily. Logan simply offered a crooked smile and a handshake.

"Very nicely done, McCoy,"

"Why thank you, Logan." Hank replied with a smug grin.

"Congrats, babe," He said as he hugged Anna. "I'm happy for ya."

She smiled tearfully and touched his face. "Thank you, James."

He seemed a little startled that she'd used his birth name, but he nodded graciously and took Storm by the arm and led her out onto the dance floor so that others could offer their congratulations and well wishes.

There was an added air of celebration for the rest of the night. Once the hullabaloo died down, the happy couple was able to leave the spotlight and find a quiet moment alone. They stood with their heads together, holding hands.

"I don't know what to say, Hank," She said with a giggle. "You got me. I never even expected it!" She tilted her hand up to admire the ring and sniffled. "I was just so happy that we were together, I never even dared to hope…" Her voice broke and she swiped away a tear self-consciously. She looked away and flapped a hand at her face, as if that would ward away the tears. He reached out and gently turned her face back to him. He tenderly brushed away a tear with his thumb and looked deeply into her brimming eyes.

"Now will you believe that I love you?"

She laughed through her tears and then shook her head irritably. She sniffed loudly and growled exasperatedly. "Ok, ok, woman! Pull it together!" She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and dabbed delicately at her eyes. "I'm making a mess of myself." She kissed him almost perfunctorily. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go touch up my makeup. I love you."

"hmmm," he sighed with mild resignation. "Hurry back."

He watched as she rushed off, gathering a gaggle of excitedly chattering girls as she went. He chuckled to himself and moved off to get a drink.

Logan met him at the punch bowl with a crooked grin and a grimace of distaste for the cup of punch in his hand. "It's not much to make a toast by, but it'll get your insides wet."

Hank shook his head with a smile and sipped at his drink. Suddenly, something occurred to him.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember that night a couple months ago, when you convinced me to go talk to Anna?"

Logan took a sip from his cup and nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"Do you recall the remark you made about her kissing ability?"

Logan was suddenly overcome with a coughing fit, and couldn't respond.

Hank grinned a feral grin. "I take that as a yes."

The room erupted in applause when Ambassador McCoy entered. He took a surprised step back, unsure of what was happening.


	18. And That would Be the Bad Guy

"Good Grief!" What is all _that_?" Anna exclaimed whe he crashed into the kitchen with both arms heavily laden with file boxes.

He plunked his burden down onto the breakfast bar and took his briefcase from between his teeth.

"This," he said as he patted one stack of boxes. "Is the _new_ Mutant Criminal Registration Act, and _this_," He said patting the other stack. "Is the new Hate Crime initiative."

She frowned as she rearranged her bowls and cutting board so that he could have more room for his boxes. "All that sounds ominous."

"Well," he said as he shoved the boxes further onto the counter. "From what I've read so far, both are very intelligently and fairly written. It's refreshing to read something written by someone who appears to be completely neutral in regards to anything pertaining to mutant-kind. As a politician, one tends to gravitate toward one extreme or another. He is proving to be a perfectly neutral political mediator."

"Oh?" She laughed as she picked up the cheese grater. "Isn't that kind of a contradiction in terms?"

He grinned and moved around the counter for a kiss. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and kissed him soundly. "Welcome home," she breathed with a contented sigh.

He made a small, pleased sound. "It's good to be home." He murmured against her lips before pulling away and taking off his suit coat. He glanced down at the heavily laden counter, surprised at how much was laid out.

"What's all this?"

"Carnitas, Mofongo, beans and yellow rice." She said as she started grating a block of mozzarella.

"That sounds wonderful," He enthused. He loosened his tie and sat at to kick off his shoes. "I am absolutely famished."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Why don't you get comfortable?" She suggested. "It will be another hour and a half before everything is ready."

He rose and snagged one of the stacks of boxes with an ease that belied their true weight and brought a delighted twinkle to his wife's eye. He rather enjoyed her reactions to displays of his strength and agility. Never in his life had he really enjoyed the prowess naturally afforded to him by his mutation, as he did being married to Anna. She found the most casual displays immensely appealing, and he loved nothing more than to show off in little ways for her.

"That sounds like a plan, my Love. In the meantime, I'm going to peruse Graydon's handiwork."

There was a sudden clatter and a hiss of pain from behind him. He turned to see that the cheese grater and the bowl of cheese had fallen to the floor, and Anna was closely examining her bloodied knuckles.

"Ow ow, dammit OWW!"

He hurriedly set down his burden and strode over to assess the damage.

"I'm alright," She protested with minor irritation at herself. "I just barked my knuckles. "What was that name again?"

"Graydon Creed," He muttered distractedly as he tore off a paper towel and blotted gently at her shaved knuckles. "He's a relatively new congressman from Mississippi, but so far he's proven himself to be a gifted mediator and a brilliant lawmaker."

He glanced at her as he ran her hand under the faucet. She was very pale and staring out the kitchen window with a troubled expression .

"Anna, are you alright?"

She blinked and seemed to shake herself. "Uh, yeah. I..I'm fine. That just _really_ hurt…"

She pulled her hand away and gave him a weak smile. "I'd better go and find some band-aids," She muttered, hurrying off to the bathroom.

He stared after her in surprise, puzzled at her strange behavior. He fetched the broom and dustpan and started to clean. He put the cheese grater and bowl in the sink and swept the spilled cheese into the garbage.

She came back, just as he was putting the broom and dustpan away.

"Are you alright?" He asked solicitously.

She kissed him perfunctorily and rummaged around for pots and pans.

"I'm fine," She shrugged distractedly. "I _hate_ it when I peel my knuckles like that."

He watched her putter about the kitchen, and noted the change in her entire bearing with a building sense of unease.

"My love, are you _sure_ you're alright?"

She glanced up at him and gave him a blank smile. "Yeah, I just threw off my groove, that's all. Go on and get yourself settled in while I get dinner on the table."

Over the next few weeks, Hank noticed that his wife was behaving peculiarly. Where she had always fairly abhorred politics, she was suddenly immersing herself in everything he did. He was surprised to find her watching the news more frequently ,especially the political commentators. He was shocked to come home one evening to find her reading the new bills and furiously taking notes as she read. Her sudden interest troubled him, and her sudden interest was accompanied by a frighteningly subdued and perturbed mood that was giving him a building sense of foreboding.

Intent on getting to the heart of the matter, he pulled up a chair and sat next to her.

"Anna," he began in a grave voice. "Is something wrong?"

So intent on her reading, she didn't even take her eyes off the pages before her. "No," she replied in a tense, yet offhand tone that immediately put him on his guard.

Something was _very_ wrong here. He could feel his hackles rising in apprehension. Anna did not conceal things from him. This had to be something to do with her extraordinary foreknowledge, and her behavior suggested something terrible.

"Anna, what is going on here?"

She glanced up at him with a strained expression of innocence.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?"

He growled irritably. "Don't be coy with me. You've been acting strangely ever since I brought home Graydon's proposed bills!"

There was no mistaking it this time; she flinched when he spoke his colleague's name.

"What?" He demanded, going cold inside. "What is it!" He took her hand in his and touched her face with the other. "I can't bear to see you so disturbed!"

Her carefully maintained expression of ignorance crumbled into an expression of such agonized indecision that he snatched her out of her chair and cradled her protectively against his chest. Her façade shattered, she shuddered and gasped against him, clutching at his shirt and shaking like a frightened child.

"I don't know what to do Hank!" She cried. "There's something big coming, something terrible and there's nothing I can do to stop it!"

It took a long time for her to calm down. She wept and clung to him as if afraid that he would vanish if she let go. He carried her gently to the living room and sat with her on the recliner. When she was finally able to calm herself, she began to haltingly explain.

"I don't know exactly _how_ it's going to happen, but I know _what_ is coming. If I interfere in any way, tell someone the wrong thing, it could turn out a million times worse that I already know it will."

She sniffled and wiped her face with his hankie. "I'd hoped it wouldn't happen so soon," She cried. "I'd hoped for a little more warning!" She closed her eyes and took a few calming breaths.

Hank could feel the growing dread settled like a great void in the center of his chest. "What _can_ you tell me?"

She sat up and gazed intently into his eyes. "Whatever you do, do _NOT_ trust Graydon Creed."


	19. It Really Takes it Outta Ya

Rogue, struggling to maintain her grip on the infuriated Sabertooth, glanced up to where Logan was struggling against Magneto's hold on him. She gritted her teeth in frustration, not wanting to take any part of her foe into herself, but not knowing what else she could do to subdue him so that she could fly to her friend's aid. McCoy lay in a senseless heap on the ground nearby, having been surprised and bludgeoned down by Sabertooth just minutes ago.

She glanced back up at Logan and saw a peculiar sparkle hanging in the air between him and Magneto. Dozens, then _hundreds_ of tiny, shining tendrils rose from all over his body, shredding his clothes. She gaped in horror as his body crashed to the ground and massive, gaping wounds tore through his flesh to release sparkling tendrils of liquid metal into the air.

"Logan!" She cried out in horror.

His ravaged body quivered in helpless agony, and his mouth opened impossibly wide in a soundless scream of torment. From his open mouth, his nose, his cheekbones, from everywhere, bloody gashes spewed forth great, glimmering gouts of his precious admantium, leaving behind a flaccid, boneless mass of the once-indestructible man. She could hear the desperate but weak wheezing of his lungs as they battled against the weight of muscle, flesh and sinew to breathe.

Her horror was such that she lost track of herself, and was taken off guard when Sabertooth seized her by the head and hurled her into a boulder. The impact stunned her, and the rubble of the shattered stone crashed down around her, momentarily blinding and trapping her.

She shook her head, dislodging some of the rock blocking her view. Sabertooth stood before his Master, caressing the gleaming lines of stolen metal that whirled and circled Magneto in restless serpentine patterns.

"Remarkable metal, this." Magneto murmured as he caused the admantium to consolidate into one shining mass. His brow furrowed and it shifted into dozens of razor-sharp discs, and then into solid pellets that he flung out to shred a nearby tree to ribbons.

"It's _mine_ Erik." Sabertooth growled. "Give it to me, _now."_

"Easier said than done, old friend." The aged villain purred condescendingly. "If I were to attempt to impregnate your body with this marvelous substance, you would be dead before I was through." He called the tiny projectiles to himself and formed them into a platform for himself to stand upon. The remainder flowed around him restlessly like protons around his nucleus of power.

"Our work here is nearly finished. Kindly dispose of our blue friend here and his boneless companion, and I will see you upon your return." With that, he lifted himself into the air and soared away.

Sabertooth snarled in fury and whirled on his helpless victims.

Rogue flailed, sending shattered rock flying in every direction and staggered to her feet, just in time to see Sabertooth standing over Logan's shattered body.

"You shoulda stayed with me, Jimmy. It never shoulda ended like this." He was muttering sullenly as he loomed over the bloody, torn form of Logan.

Without hesitation, she seized a huge piece of rock and hurled it with blinding speed at him. The rock struck him square in the chest and sent him flying into another rock pile with a horrendous snapping of bone. He sank to the ground and collapsed unconscious onto his side.

She flew to Logan's side and recoiled in revulsion. Logan's wounds were not healing. Huge rents in his skin and muscle oozed blood, and where she should have been able to see bone, there was none. She could find no safe place to touch him. She could only stare, horrified as his deflated body struggled to breathe, despite its missing skeleton.

She glanced at his ruined face, and was nearly sick when she saw that his eyes were wide and spinning about in agony. She scuttled away with a cry of terrified disbelief, frightened and sickened that he was still alive and aware throughout his horrendous wounding and suffering. It was too much to bear. She bumped into the wakening Dr. McCoy and sent him sprawling again, in her mindless flight from such unthinkable fear and torment. He groaned and struggled to his feet.

"You have to help him!" Rogue said, fighting back the bile rising in her throat. She seized his arm and hauled him bodily over to her fallen friend. "He's in agony! You have to DO something!"

McCoy stared at the mound of torn and broken flesh that had once been his most invincible colleague, and she could see the shock and horror that she felt, mirrored in his expression. He knelt beside Logan and began a quick but meticulous examination of his injuries. He glanced up at Rogue, and she could see the helpless frustration and hopelessness in his eyes.

"His bones are…gone." He gasped in a tortured whisper. "His wounds aren't healing..." He stifled a retch when his eyes met Logan's "_How can he still be alive!"_

She grabbed McCoy by the front of his shirt. "DO something!" She hissed.

"My dear," He said, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. "There's nothing I _can_ do."

She stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, then released him. They stared at one another, their eyes filling with hopeless tears, and turned back to their dying friend.

"Wait a moment," McCoy muttered suddenly. He bent closer to one of the gaping wounds on Logan's chest and stared into it. Rogue forced herself to look, and there she saw a sliver of white that grew as she watched, and forced itself into its proper place. The two eagerly searched his other wounds and saw similar slivers of white slithering through the gashes and filling those horrifying gaps with clean, white bone.

"Marie!" McCoy cried urgently. "Go fetch an ambulance! Right now! Carry it if you have to, but get it and its EMT's here NOW!"

She stared at him in surprise.

"Go!" He roared, grasping her by the shirt and belt and hurling her bodily into the air.

She righted herself and streaked off, suddenly feeling the faint stirrings of hope.

To say the EMT's were surprised would have been an understatement, but once they saw the torn and mutilated figure of Logan, they went straight to work, never questioning the presence of an ambassador to the United Nations, nor the presence of the beautiful but impossibly strong woman whom had picked them up, ambulance an all, and flown them to this spot.

By the time she'd returned, Logan's bones had fully regenerated, but his wounds were still open and oozing blood. He was blessedly unconscious, and his body seemed wasted away to almost nothing. In minutes, the stricken man was intubated, and an IV had been started. They hurriedly loaded him into the ambulance, and Rogue was obliged to carry them all to the nearest hospital.

As Rogue alighted in the ambulance bay of the ER, dozens of people crowed windows and rushed out onto the sidewalks to watch as she gently lowered the ambulance and Logan was unloaded. McCoy followed him in, shouting instructions and overriding objections to his commands with the assertion that he was the man's physician.

Rogue was politely but firmly told to stay behind, and though she knew she could bully her way in, she allowed the nurse to take her back into the waiting room.

She leaned against a wall and sank to the floor, suddenly weak and feeling nauseous. The entire place was abuzz, but it was a long time before she realized that everyone was focused on _her_. She lifted her eyes and looked around to see everyone staring and whispering. She winced, and felt like her soul was shriveling in despair. Her mind was too full of Logan's plight to spare any thought for quelling any anti-mutant sentiment and mindless bigotry that these people were probably feeling.

She closed her eyes and drew her knees up to her chest. She buried her face in her arms and let the tears flow. She gasped and shuddered under the crushing weight of the day's events and the horrifying memories of her friend's injuries.

The sound of footsteps approaching intruded on her tears, and she tensed for the onslaught of hatred she knew was coming.

There was a small, hollow plunk as something was set beside her, and a light hand rested hesitantly on her shoulder.

"Hey, you gonna be alright, lady?"

Surprised, she glanced up, and saw a boy, not much younger than she was, crouched next to her and looking her over compassionately. He reached down between them and pulled a tissue from the box he'd brought over.

She took it gratefully and dutifully wiped her nose. "Thanks," She sniffled, still a little wary.

"I saw your friend, when you brought in the bus," He said softly. "And you look like you could use a friend right now."

She glanced up at him in surprise. "Mutant?" She whispered.

He just smiled and shook his head. "Nah, but that was hella cool the way you flew that bus in and just set it down all careful, like it was your baby inside or something. " He shook his head incredulously and laughed. "Pretty damn heroic, too. Everybody thinks so." He said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder.

She stared at him in disbelief, and risked a glance around the room. Everyone's eyes were riveted on her, and her face flushed. Instead of the expressions of fear and disgust that she was expecting, there were smiles of encouragement and…approval. Most just nodded or smiled gravely for her, but a few offered fist-pumps and thumbs up.

Tears of gratitude welled up in her eyes, and she lowered her gaze, embarrassed and warmed by their unexpected support and admiration.

Her newfound friend sat with her for a while and did his best to distract her from her troubles. He was there with his brother, who'd been shot when members of a rival gang had shown up to a party someplace. He wasn't terribly worried, as the bullet had hit him in the shoulder, but he was totally disgusted with his brother's idiocy.

"About the only good to come from all this is that he's 19, so they can't come after my mom for the bill." He shook his head sadly. "My brother's a good guy, but he's got a totally screwed up idea of what real life is all about. Hopefully getting shot will be the kick in the ass he needs to get his head on straight."

"I hope so too," She said, smiling gratefully at him.

At that moment, a nurse came out, calling for the Ester family. Her friend jumped immediately to his feet and waved her over. They conferred for a few moments and then the nurse moved to lead him back to his brother's room.

He stopped and offered Rogue his hand. "Nice to meecha, Supergirl!" He grinned "I hope your friend is alright."

She shook his proffered hand. "Marie," She murmured with real gratitude for his companionship.

"Terrance," He said with a smile. "T.E. to my friends."

She watched him hurry after the nurse, until the doors closed behind him. She shifted uncomfortably on the hard floor and leaned her head back against the wall warily. Things had quieted down noticeably, and before she knew it, she was dozing.

A gentle touch on her arm brought her suddenly awake, and her head snapped back, cracking the tiles on the wall behind her.

"Shh...it's alright, Marie. It's just me."

Dr. McCoy was crouched in front of her, his face lined with fatigue, yet alight with hope. "He's going to be alright, Marie. You got us here in time."

He gently helped her to her feet and led her to a different floor and Logan's room. Along the way he explained that once Logan's bones had started to grow back, he knew that he could get him stabilized so that his natural healing ability could keep working. Logan had lost massive amounts of blood, but once they were able to get in IV into him, his body was able to take over. They had been pumping Logan full of IV fluids and whatever helpful nutrients they could force through his veins. They had been working on sewing up the various gaping wounds all over his body because he was too weak after regenerating his entire skeleton and mending the ruptured veins and arteries, to continue healing the lesser but still dangerous wounds to his muscle and skin.

When they entered the room, Rogue was surprised to find a team of nurses and doctors surrounding the bed and suturing the remainder of Logan's wounds. They could not hold her attention for long. She hardly recognized the frail, shrunken man in the bed. His skin was gray and cold, and there was not an inch of skin anywhere on his body that hadn't required mending. He was still bleeding, though the very worst of it had clearly stopped. His body seemed shriveled and skeletal beneath the glaring lights, and more than anything, he looked _fragile_ as if he would shatter at the smallest touch.

He was still unconscious, and had tubes running in and out of every available patch of skin on his arms and neck. There were several bags of Ringer's Solution suspended from the stands attached to the bed, and several free-rolling stands stood around the bed, all hung with various bags and infusion machines.

The people working on him universally wore expressions of horrified disbelief as they worked feverishly to stitch him up. There were constant murmurs and exclamations of shock at the depth and extent of his wounds. One of the physicians approached McCoy as he and Rogue entered.

"We'lll probably finish suturing the worst of his wounds in the next couple of hours, but our biggest fear right now is infection and blood loss. Frankly, I can't see how he's even alive at this point." He scrubbed his hand tiredly against his cheek and sighed. "I trust that you know what you're doing, as I've never treated a mutant with his caliber of ability, but I must say that in any other situation, my prognosis would not good."

The burly blue man gazed grimly at their patient and laid a reassuring hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"If he were any other man, I would agree with you. But I believe he will make it."

The doctor looked dubious, but he didn't argue. "Well, if anything, it gives the med students plenty of practice in deep tissue injury repair."

McCoy patted the doctor on the back and strode to Logan's bedside. He picked up a stethoscope and began an examination of the battered warrior's vital signs.

"Heart rate is approximately 50 beats per minute, pulse is weak, pupils are equal and reactive. Breath sounds are still moderately crackly but improving. Femoral pulse is weak, but getting stronger…"

The voices of Hank and the Doctors droned on and on, but Rogue could only focus on the still form of the man whom she considered her closest friend and most trusted confidante. She wanted nothing more than to take his hand, but he looked so very frail, and she was terrified that with her enormous strength, she would break him. So she settled for sitting close and watching over him.

For days Rogue sat by his side, leaving only to go to the bathroom. There were dozens of phone calls and at one point or another, everyone on the team stopped in to check on him, though they had to return almost immediately to the school. Once McCoy felt he was stabilized, he too was forced to return to his own work, though he set up a direct virtual link to Moira McTaggart on Muir Isle so that there would always be someone familiar with Logan's physiology on hand in case of any emergency.

Anna came by every day, bearing homemade meals, clean clothes and other little comforts to make Rogue's stay a little easier. She came early in the morning and left late at night, offering welcome distraction and gently holding Logan's hand. She remained cheery and optimistic, despite the many setbacks and crises he had those first few days.

A week passed, and finally, there seemed to be some visible improvement in Logan's condition. As the nurse was injecting the various massive doses of vitamins into his IV, Anna was pulling open the curtains on a beautiful, sunny morning. Rogue happened to be watching his face when she noticed his brow crinkle in a small grimace as the sunlight fell across his face.

"He moved!" She cried out, jumping to her feet and sending her chair careening across the room. "He Moved!"

Everyone rushed to his side as the nurse hurriedly checked his vitals.

"Are you sure, Marie?" Anna asked eagerly. "What happened?"

"He frowned!" She said excitedly. "When you opened the curtain, he frowned!"

The nurse gently lifted his eyelid and shined a little flashlight into them. There was no mistaking the grimace in his expression.

The two crowed with delight and bent over his bed eagerly. The nurse shook his head in amazement and moved to the computer to enter the information into the uplinked database.

"Logan," Rogue called softly. "Logan, it's Marie. You're in the hospital. You've been hurt real bad, but they're taking real good care of you."

Anna took his hand carefully and Rogue reached out and delicately brushed his arm with her fingertips.

"Me and Anna McCoy are here with you, so you'll never be alone. You just rest and get better, and we'll be here when you wake up."

Logan's recovery was slow for him, but rapid in comparison to anyone else. He regained full consciousness ten days after the attack, though he tired easily. Within two days, his doctors felt he was ready to try a liquid diet.

"What the hell is this?" He demanded irritably when they set a tray of broth, juice, milk and jello in front of him.

"It's your first meal in almost two weeks, Logan." Rogue explained patiently. "They gotta make sure you can handle eating first."

He lifted the bowl of broth in one shaking hand and took a swallow. He grimaced in distaste, but fell to it with surprising appetite. Within minutes, it was all gone. He sank back into the pillows with an unsatisfied sigh.

"You alright?" She asked solicitously.

"No," he grumbled "Now I'm _really_ hungry. What's a guy got to do to get a steak around here?"

She laughed. "I'm not so sure your system could handle that yet."

Logan's stomach snarled then. Something it hadn't done since he'd been injured.

"What I can't handle is this bullion-flavored water they're trying to feed me."

She thought for a minute, and then another snarl from Logan's stomach decided her. She got up and typed in an inquiry to Muir Isle. There was a response a few minutes later, and she immediately got on the phone with Anna.

his doctors quickly determined that the IV nutrients and vitamins were not doing enough, and that a liquid diet was also not getting him the nutrition he truly needed to heal.

Logan was sleeping when Anna arrived. She shut the door behind her and set her bags on the floor next to the bed. She tenderly brushed his hair out of his face and looked closely at him.

"He does look a little better, doesn't he?"

Rogue nodded with a smile. "His heart seems stronger, but he's still really tired all the time."

Anna nodded absently as she started opening the bags she'd brought with her. "His healing factor is starting to kick into high gear," she muttered thoughtfully. "He's going to need a lot of calories over the next few weeks."

She pulled out a large plastic container full of homemade beef stew and laid it out on his table. A moment later, Logan's nose started to twitch and his eyelids fluttered open.

"Logan, can you eat?"

His stomach snarled, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. "Damn, I'm tired." He murmured in a barely audible voice.

Anna carefully tucked a napkin under his chin and took up a spoon. "Open up, Logan" She commanded, lifting a spoonful of the broth to his lips.

The first spoonful he swallowed weakly, but with each mouthful, he seemed to regain some of his strength. After a few minutes, she paused to let him wake up a little. His breathing slowly became stronger, and his stomach started to growl again. He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes, more alert this time.

Rogue and Anna were watching him very carefully. "Are you ready for more?" Anna asked with a smile.

"Hell yeah," He said weakly.

Anna lifted out a chunk of meat in the next spoonful and watched him closely as he chewed it. As he ate, he strength began to visibly return. His body quickly took over and he impatiently took the spoon from Anna and started greedily shoveling it into his mouth. When the bowl was empty, he practically licked it clean. He laid back, breathing heavily. The two women watched in amazement as color seemed to flood back into his face and his features began to look less gaunt. The healing work that would take a normal body weeks or months to repair was accomplished in a matter of minutes. And then, his stomach growled again.

Rogue stared at him, shocked. That hadn't been a small container of food. Anna just laughed and pulled another, identical container out of her bag and set it on the table in front of him. Logan went through that quickly and then a third before he finally laid back in his pillows and sighed. A few minutes later, he fell into a deep, healing sleep.

For a week, Anna, under the close supervision of Muir Isle continued to prepare enormous amounts of protein-rich food for Logan, and his recovery progressed exponentially by the day. All of the doctors were baffled by the speed of his recovery, including Muir Island. Moira had been monitoring all of his blood tests personally, and contacted him with a startling revelation.

"By all accounts, despite your mutation, you should absolutely _not_ be regenerating at the rate that you are. Though it may seem a slow process to you, compared to what you're used to, but the level of trauma you suffered should have almost cancelled out your healing ability."

She clicked some things on her keyboard and called up some test results on a graph. "Now I'm sure this is all rubbish to you, but this is an analysis of your blood when you came into the hospital. As you can see, there is an abnormal level of an unknown toxin in your blood. Here is an analysis of blood drawn a week later."

This graph was in a different color, and the level of toxins was noticeably lower. She clicked some more on her keyboard and a third graph overlaid the first two. "This is the analysis done yesterday. As you can see, the toxins are almost nonexistent."

"So what does that mean, exactly?" Logan grumped.

"The admantium," Anna muttered almost inaudibly. Rogue shot her a quick look and saw a wide-eyed expression of "ah-ha!" on her face. She was about to say something when Moira continued.

"I had the toxin analyzed by a colleague at Bembridge University and he found traces of admantium. I believe that the metal was slowly poisoning you, and the process of fighting off those toxins was actually retarding your healing process to a startling degree. From what I've been able to determine, once you are completely recovered, you will be able to heal nearly instantaneously."

"Will that stop the pain when I get hurt?"

She smiled wistfully. "I'm afraid not, but any pain you suffer will likely subside even more quickly than before.

Logan grunted and shifted on the edge of his bed. "So when can I get outta here?"

"I don't see any reason for you to stay in the hospital any longer, but I would prefer that you stay someplace relatively quiet where there will be someone to watch over you. "

"You can stay with me and Hank, Logan." Anna offered from behind him.

"Actually, that's a fine idea. Dr. McCoy would be ideal as he's familiar with your mutation." She shifted her attention to Anna. "I'd rather he have ground-floor quarters where he won't have to navigate any stairs for a while. Is that possible?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Mr. Logan, I recommend that you allow yourself to rest whenever you begin to feel tired. I will send you a program of physical therapy to help you rebuild your strength. It will be a long while before you're back to your old strength again." She warned. "It will do you more harm than good to push yourself faster than your body is able to cope with, so don't overdo it."

"Yeah, yeah, alright." He groused, getting out of bed.

Moira smiled knowingly and began typing rapidly. "I will forward the release papers to your physicians there at the hospital, along with instructions on vitamin supplements and orders for weekly blood tests."

Rogue handed him his clothes with a grin and flopped a towel on top of the pile. "You might wanna shower first."

"You now, I'm still pretty weak," he smirked. "I probably shouldn't shower alone."

"That's alright," Rogue said sweetly. "I'm sure Jacob will be glad to come in and keep an eye on you. "

"Yeah, thanks, but no thanks."

Logan showered without incident, and came out a half an hour later. He was putting his shirt on as he left, and his friends were shocked at how skeletal he was. Then the discharge nurse came in with his paperwork.

Rogue rode home with them and helped Anna to get him settled in. Storm called right after they ate a massive dinner with Dr. McCoy and asked Rogue to take over the physical training course that Logan had left empty.


	20. Like a Caged Animal

The Institute building was a large, stately building with aesthetically pleasing contours that were intended to make one feel calm and relaxed when approaching it. The windows were deeply inset so one could see that the windows were reinforced; some with iron bars. The interior was even more inoffensive, with paint in soft, friendly colors, and inexpensive and functional furniture.

Anna saw none of this. She was in a state of agitation that bordered on lunatic. Hank had been found, and he was in here, somewhere. She burst through the doors and demanded to know where Dr. MacTaggart could be found, in a tone that was almost rude.

The nurses had obviously been advised to expect her, because rather than taking offense, their eyes softened and one of them immediately led her to the elevator and then downstairs to a closed conference room.

She thanked the woman as politely as she could muster, and without even knocking, strode into the room. Inside, Storm, Logan and Moira sat talking somberly around the large conference table. Their heads all snapped up when she entered.

"Where is he?" She cried.

"Warren," Storm said, speaking into the speakerphone. "Anna just got here. Logan and I will head back tonight."

"Right," came Warren's response. "Travel safely. Anna, good luck."

"Thanks, Warren," she barely managed to get out. "Where is he?" She repeated impatiently.

"He's here," Storm said, moving to embrace her. "He's safe."

Anna hugged her perfunctorily, irritated. "I have to see him."

Storm glanced over at Moira. The silence stretched out for several uncomfortable moments, and Anna's heart quailed with dread. At last Moira spoke.

"Dr. McCoy appears to be suffering from a delayed effect of the serum he injected himself with several years ago. The Legacy Virus has again triggered that secondary mutation and…"

Anna shook her head impatiently. "Yeah, the stuff that gave him the fur and turned him blue. I know all about that. Combined with the effects of the virus, it's changed his appearance even more and now he's gone feral. Where _is_ he?"

They all stared at her in disbelief. They all knew about her strange knowledge of their past and possible futures, but it was still unnerving when she simply shrugged off earthshattering events as common knowledge.

Logan broke the silence. "She already knows, just take her."

Moira simply nodded and led the way back to the bank of elevators. As the doors slid closed, she produced a set of keys and inserted one into a lock beneath the bottom row of buttons. The button immediately above it lit up and Moira punched it. No one spoke as the elevator descended. That suited Anna right down to the ground. Though she was grateful to them all for finding Hank, all she could think of was getting to him as quickly as possible. Blessedly, they all seemed to understand and sympathize, so they gave her the space she needed and didn't try to distract her with unnecessary conversation.

The doors finally opened on a sterile, undecorated hallway that was a far cry from the friendly, warm atmosphere of the upper floors. Moira led the way down that hall, and through three separate, vault-like doors that required she swipe her ID card in order to pass.

Beyond the third door was a small, darkened room. It was furnished with a small table and a few chairs, a computer monitoring system, and a curtained window. Moira pulled a cord, and the curtain slid out of the way to reveal a window that looked into a brightly lit room.

Anna stepped cautiously to the window and peered intently through. The room was not large, but the ceiling was high, bright sunlight shone through tiny barred windows up near the ceiling. There had obviously been several pieces of furniture in the room. The bed has been stripped of all soft materials, as had the chair. The table, bed frame, and dresser had all been stacked in a far corner and made into a sort of cave. There was a tiny break between the pieces of furniture where the bundle of bed linens and a bit of the mattress could be seen. Her eyes searched the room, but she didn't see Hank.

"He's in there. You just can't see him amidst the jumble." Moira assured her. "He stays in there most of the time. He comes out at night for the food we leave for him, but otherwise he stays hidden."

Anna continued to stare thoughtfully into the room. After a long time, she straightened. "Dr. MacTaggart. I'm going to need to make a few phone calls, and then I need a shower, several sets of scrubs, a few basic toiletries, and two fresh dinner trays."

Moira blinked at her, puzzled. "Of course, you can use the phone in my office, but what do you need with the rest?"

"I'm going in to be with my husband."

They argued with her, of course. "It's not Hank in there," and "You don't know what you're doing," and so on. She only half listened as she planned for her absence from home, and the various other things that needed to be taken care of. They followed her up to Moira's office, telling her that they weren't about to let her in the room with him when she finally lost her temper.

"Won't _let_?" She demanded. "And just how are you going to stop me? That is _my_ husband in that room down there. I think I know him a lot better than any of you do. I am in no danger!"

"But that's not Hank in there, Anna!" Storm said, taking her by the shoulders. "We've known him a lot longer than you have, and he still fought us tooth and nail when we caught up with him. We have been his family for decades and he didn't even recognize _us._ How do you think he's going to recognize _you_?"

"Ororo, he _did_ recognize you. He knows who all of us are. He's in a primal state right now, but he is still aware of who he is. He feels a deep sense of shame for the way that he looks and the hand fate has dealt him, and he's acutely aware that it's his own fault his in this situation in the first place." She made a face and sat down in Moira's chair. "He's feeling sorry for himself, thinking that he's an animal, and so he's behaving like one. He's submerged himself in this persona as a way of hiding from the fact that he will never look human again."

"How can you possibly know all that?" Demanded Logan.

She gave him a long-suffering look. "I know how this chapter in his life works out. If we take a wait-and-see approach, it will take too long for him to finally work his way out of this. We need him now, not later. He won't hurt me. I promise you."

"If he's going to work this out on his own, why take the risk?" Storm asked. "If you go in there and get hurt, how do you think he will feel when he comes out of this and finds that it was him that hurt you? He loves you more than anything and something like that could put him right back where he is now."

"It's precisely because he loves me so much that I _know_ that I'll be alright." She looked directly at Moira. "The only other person who could have gotten through to him was Charles, but with him gone…"

Moira's eyes widened and she went very pale. Anna cocked her head slightly to the side and raised an eyebrow to let her know that she was fully aware that Charles was still around.

The room settled into an uncomfortable silence. Anna looked each of them directly in the eye and waited for any further arguments. When no one spoke, she nodded and reached for the phone.

The heavy vault door closed behind her with a soft thud, and she could barely hear the nearly inaudible hiss as it sealed itself and locked down. It was late afternoon, and the sun was no longer shining through the high windows, but it was still bright enough that she could see the room clearly.

Anna stood, looking around and feeling moderately claustrophobic. The high ceiling helped to make the room feel bigger, but the four stark walls and the sealed vault door behind her made it feel as if she was in the bottom of a well.

To the right of the vault door was a curtained off area that she assumed was the bathroom. To the right of that was the one-sided mirror/window to the observation room, and a panel in the wall that appeared to be some sort of dumbwaiter. Below it lay a pile of trays and food dishes.

She stepped further into the room and looked around. From within the "cave" there came a faint rustle and a shadow of movement. She took a deep breath and noticed a strong scent of musk in the air. It reminded her of Hank after a workout, but also had an unfamiliar, _wild_ tang to it. She just hoped there her own scent would be strong enough to counter his.

The dresser was backed up against the side of his shelter, but the drawers were facing outward. Hefting her stack of scrubs, bed linens and her bag of toiletries, she marched directly over and started putting things away.

A low growl from behind the dresser greeted her intrusion. She waited calmly for him to settle again.

"Hello Hank. It's good to see you again. I've missed you."

Silence.

She finished putting her things away and took her linens to the corner where the dumbwaiter panel sat. She quickly and quietly put together a bed and sat down with a book to wait for him to come to her.

As she read, her hair dried and she could smell her "stink" growing stronger and stronger. In the back of her mind she had silently wondered if time and constant use of the inhibitor hadn't dulled her ability to produce the pheromones. She smiled smugly to herself and settled back. It wouldn't be long now.

A quiet rustle caught her attention. She glanced casually up and caught sight of his eyes, glowing from the back of his little shelter. She smiled and unconcernedly went back to her book. The rustling came a little closer, but she chose not to look. The last thing she wanted to do was give him the impression that he was being studied.

Above the entrance, the camera whirred to life. It rotated and focused on the opening of Hank's cave. Hank flinched back from the opening and snarled angrily at it.

Anna growled with frustration. "Shut them _off_." She snapped. "Shut them all off now."

"Are you sure, Mrs. McCoy?" Asked Moira over the intercom. "What if you should be hurt?"

"I'll be fine. Please just do as I say. You're only upsetting him."

"Alright. But I will keep the intercom open, should you need anything."

"Dinner would be good."

"You've got it. Good luck." The camera rotated back into its original position and the light on it clicked off.

Anna sighed with irritation. She looked up into her husband's glowing eyes and spoke soothingly. "Don't be offended Hank. They're just doing what they can to help you, and they don't know that you're perfectly able to understand. They mean well."

His eyes narrowed and he sat back. She smiled for him and went back to reading.

A short while later, dinner was delivered via the dumbwaiter. Anna set the trays near her bedding and waited for Hank to join her. He gradually moved closer, hovering just inside his little shelter. The faint snuffling as he tested the air with his nose made her heart beat a little faster. There was no way he could miss her stink now.

The light fell partially across his face and she could see how much more feline his features had grown. Though she knew how far the mutation would change him, she was still surprised to see how quickly it had taken effect. She quickly covered her shock with a welcoming grin.

"Care to join me, Dr. McCoy?" She asked in the same, silly tone she had always used when they were first getting to know one another.

He withdrew slightly and she shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Suit yourself."

Without another glance at him, she picked up her tray and started eating. Her book lay open beside her and she read as she ate.

With growing restlessness, Hank inched his way out of his shelter and closer to her. She continued to pay him no mind as he crouched in front of her, seemingly ready for fight or flight.

His nose twitched continually as her scent filled the room. She could feel his body slowly relax and she glanced up at him.

"Bon appetit," She said with a negligent wave at his tray.

He devoured his dinner cautiously, watching her warily, his nose always testing the air. She marked her page and closed the book and turned her full attention on him.

Hank's fur had grown long and shabby, and was matted in several places. His long, mane-like hair was ragged and unkempt, and his normally manicured finger and toenails now appeared more claw-like.

"My love, you need a haircut."

His ears twitched toward her, and she could see understanding in his eyes. She closed her eyes and sighed with relief. He turned his face away and moved back toward his "cave."

"Wait," She said. "Come sit with me."

He stopped, his shoulders tense. He stood still for a moment, as if considering, then he let out a sigh, letting his shoulders droop dejectedly. He crouched and slid back into the shelter of his "Cave."

Anna tried for several days to get him to communicate with her. He watched her constantly, and after the first night, she woke to find that he'd laid a blanket over her as she slept. Her spirits soared. If he was aware enough to be concerned about her comfort, he was not as feral as they had all feared. Sure she knew that he wasn't, but seeing him had startled her, and shaken her confidence.

With a bright mood and irrepressible determination, she made herself comfortable and went about life in as normal a routine as could be managed in their current situation. She insisted that meals be taken together, and she talked to him constantly about what had been happening during his absence. She bathed daily, and maintained a neat, clean appearance. She sang, drew, read, and cleaned, even going so far as to yank out his soiled linens and replace them with clean bedding. The dumbwaiter saw near constant use between meals, toting away their dirty laundry and dishes, then bringing back the clean.

After several days, when he crept out of his enclosure, and sat with her to eat, he stared at her with resigned exasperation, seeming to realize that she wasn't going to leave. With a huff he settled in to eat and instead of slinking back to his cave, he sat for a time, watching her as she moved about the room, tidying up.

As she passed him, carrying a load of his dirty linens, he inhaled sharply. She stopped and looked down at him. His eyes were closed, and he growled deep in his chest. She unsuccessfully tried to hide a knowing smile as his eyes slid partially open to stare at her hungrily.

She laughed lightly and gently touched his face. He sighed and pressed his cheek against her palm, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. She dropped the pile of linens and wrapped her arms around his neck. He recoiled only slightly, but allowed her to hold him. She broke away reluctantly and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Hank."

He gazed into her eyes for several long moments, then nuzzled her face with reluctant affection. She giggled when his fur tickled her neck. His ears quirked as if to say that she was crazy, then he sighed and stretched out on the floor to watch her. She touched his face again, then gathered up her discarded laundry.

Over the next few days, Hank seemed more relaxed around her. He sat closer to her as they ate, and he followed her into the bathroom when she showered. The first time, she was surprised to step dripping from the bath to find him sitting just inside the door, staring at her. She yelped with surprise and scolded him for sneaking up on her. He continued to stare at her, his intent, golden eyes sliding up and down her body. She blushed, and hurriedly wrapped a towel around herself.

His ears twitched, giving him an amused expression. A peculiar rolling rumble burbled up from his belly. He was laughing!

Anna stuck her tongue out at him and strode out of the bathroom.

That night, as she kissed his face on the way to bed, he swung his arm under her legs and swept her up into his arms. She gave vent to a startled whoop and clung to him as he carried her into his cave. He settled her into his pile of cushions and bedclothes, then curled himself around her.

Overjoyed, she snuggled into his chest, curving herself against his still-familiar form. Her chest throbbed painfully and she held her breath against the strength of her own relief. She had been so frightened for him, despite knowing what was going on and where he could be found. Their home had seemed so empty and cold with him gone that she couldn't even sleep in their bed anymore. She sniffed back the tears that began to fall when she recalled sleeping on the couch and curling into the back of it just as she was curling into him now, just so she could sleep.

"Oh, Hank!" She gasped, clinging to his fur.

He responded to the quaking of her body by curling tighter around her, his legs intertwined with hers. She breathed deeply and before long, both were sound asleep.

The time following their first night together was filled with Anna's attempts to draw Hank into a conversation. He continued to refuse to speak, but he was attentive and affectionate. At times, he was downright playful.

When she spoke words of affection and love, he responded with a purr and a headbutt. Though she was pleased that they were becoming so close again, she was frustrated that he still refused to speak. They had been there for weeks, and she was getting _really _claustrophobic.

She gazed at him as he napped, curled up beside her. His coat was really looking ratty, and he needed a haircut badly. In all honesty, he looked like an animal. A _wild_ animal at that.

Maybe that was the problem. It's hard to feel human when you know you don't _look_ human. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. She had brought his shaving bag with all of his grooming tools…

Originally, she had planned to let him clean himself up, thinking that the clean-up would be cleansing in a way. But he seemed to be happy as he was. Perhaps if she did the clean up for him, it would help bring him further out of his funk. The more she thought it over, the better she liked the idea. With a smile of satisfaction, she leaned back against him and waited for him to awake.

The bathroom floor was covered in a thick carpet of long, blue hair. A broom would not fit into the dumbwaiter, so she settled for kicking it into a large, hairy clump, and shoving it toward the wall. Throughout the procedure, Hank sat or stood patiently, his eyes half closed and a contented purr vibrating the floor beneath her feet.

She had brushed, cut, trimmed, clipped, filed and buffed, and finally brushed his hair, fur and nails until he looked just about normal again. She stepped back and scrutinized her work critically. Except for the concealing patch of fur she'd left long to "preserve his decency," she'd cut all of his fur nice and short, and left his hair just shorter than shoulder-length. She gazed admiringly at his muscular physique and felt a momentarily strong twinge of desire.

A few seconds later, his eyes popped open and he inhaled deeply. He growled hungrily and pulled her into the circle of his arms. He nuzzled her neck and pulled her hard against him. She shuddered with pleasure and took his face in her hands. She kissed his lips, not even noticing the difference in their shape or texture. He pulled back and nuzzled at her neck, nipping playfully.

Anna giggled. "I love you Hank." She breathed.

He groaned as he inhaled deeply again. He shuddered against her, and his hands grasped her clothes. She grasped his wrists firmly. "Not until you tell me that you love me, too."

He stood still, his body shaking with the heat of the moment. He sighed and crouched against the tub, sulking. Anna had to take several deep, calming breaths to soothe her disappointment. They stared silently at anything but each other for a long moment, the tension heavy in the air.

"Come on, Hank," She said softly, forcing a light tone. "Let's get you in the bath."

Without looking up at her, he climbed into the tub and crouched at the far end. She turned on the shower and tested the water. Hank liked his showers hot. His face crumpled and his ears flattened back against his head when the water first hit him.

Before long, clouds of steam filled the air, making her hair stick to her face and neck. She swiped at it absently and quickly lathered up his hair and fur, allowing him the time he needed to relax and sit back comfortably in the tub.

While he soaked, she hummed some of his favorite songs. He gradually relaxed and stretched out his legs – as far as the small tub would allow anyway – and lazily twitched his sodden toes in time with her song.

Suddenly, there he was. His features had changed dramatically, but she could _see _him in there. The only thing missing was his glasses and a fat book. She sat back on the edge of the tub and drank in the sight of him.

"I see you, Henry Phillip McCoy." She murmured happily.

She was standing in the living room, watching a storm rage outside. Behind her, she could hear the familiar sounds of His footsteps approaching. She smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned back against him with a sigh when he put his arms around her.

The thunder roared and the house shook. Hank squeezed her tighter when she jumped. His breath was hot against her neck, and she shivered despite his warmth. The brush of his lips on her neck sent bolts of electricity shooting throughout her body and she gasped with the painful pleasure of it.

Something tugged at her, and she groaned with frustration and tried to ignore it. He placed another teasing kiss on her neck and she sighed happily. There came another tug, and it jarred her from her pleasant reverie. Her limbs were suddenly tired and sluggish, and when she tried to speak, it came out muttered and incomprehensible. She suddenly felt tired and weak.

The third tug brought her awake, and she blinked fuzzily, disappointed that her dream had been interrupted. She turned her head, trying to remember what woke her when she felt Hank's lips on her shoulder.

The touch sent a violent, involuntary shudder through her already dream-aroused body, and she gasped hard. Encouraged by her reaction, Hank pulled at her top, trying to tug it down over her arms. Without thinking, she freed her arms and rolled to face him. She kissed his face and allowed her hands to roam hungrily over his chest, arms, and back.

He, too, slid his hands all over her body as he kissed her face and neck, making her gasp and groan. A low growl rumbled up from his chest, and he shuddered deliciously against her.

Anna couldn't help but smile. Ever since he'd discovered that she was sexually pliable in her sleep, he'd taken child-like delight in waking her with kisses and caresses in the wee hours of the morning. He said it was the only time that she was completely relaxed and unselfconscious in her reactions, and he absolutely loved it.

"Tell me you love me, Hank." She pleaded.

He responded with the naughty growl he knew turned her on, and rolled atop her.

Anna squirmed beneath him. "Please, Hank. I need to hear you say it."

His prehensile toes found the waistband of her PJ bottoms and tore them off. He made a purring noise and kissed her again. As he reached for her underwear, she seized his wrists.

"Not until you talk to me."

He froze for a long moment, then flipped his arms out of her grasp and seized _her_ wrists, pinning them over her head. He crouched, bringing his agile toes up again.

"I mean it, Hank." She said with uncharacteristic steel. "You have to talk to me first."

Their eyes locked, and he laid back his ears in irritation. Then he was suddenly gone. A moment later, the "cave" shook, and there was a terrifying crash across the room. A hair-raising bellow of rage and frustration shattered the air, and Anna clapped her hands over her ears in shock.

The dresser was moved suddenly, followed by a horrendous crash as it smashed against the one-way mirror to the observation room. Anna Hastily threw on her top and scrambled out.

Hank was standing in the middle of the room, screaming his rage in a ragged animal snarl. For a moment, Anna was afraid, knowing the strength of his dark persona, and the terrible things it had done and would again do.

He picked up an unbroken drawer and hurled it against the door. More frightened of losing what headway she'd made than of him, Anna flew to his side.

"HANK! Please STOP!"

She felt something strike her chest, and the breath whooshed out of her lungs. She only had time to realize that she was in the air before she heard a terrible thudding sound in the back of her head, and the world seemed to spin away into blackness.

That smell! _Her_ scent…everywhere! Can't escape. Have to get away. The smell is good. Too good. I want. I need. ANGER. FRUSTRATION. NEED!

He spread his fangs and roared. It felt good to give voice to his anger. Powerful. He lifted a large hunk of wood with one hand and smashed it to the ground. Yesssss. Power. Strength. Need.

She was small. Weak. She had need. Why did he let her stop him? He snarled and smashed something else, reveling in the ecstasy of his strength. I am strong. She is weak. I will _take._ How can she stop me?

But it was wrong. Why? Her scent calls to him. Touches him. Surrounds him. Gives him need. Why not take?

He shuddered away from the thought. He would not. She had been kind. She never smelt of anger or fear. She touched him in good ways. She kept his den smelling fresh and new, and always filled with her scent. She was good.

Where is she? Her voice was gone, and it gave him an empty feeling inside. He spun around, again taking pleasure in his strength and agility. He did not see her. His keen eyes searched the room and saw a strange pile of clothing against a far wall. No, not clothes. There is a hand, and a leg. They aren't moving.

He crept forward cautiously, instinctively knowing that something bad had happened. He crouched next to her and tentatively touched her limp hand. She didn't move.

_NO!_

The thought was clear, stunningly so, and filled with an awful awareness. He shook his head, dazed. His eyes fell on the…woman at his…feet with an awful realization dawning on his slowly reawakening mind. This was someone important to him. This was his… mate…no…his _wife_!

"Anna," he whispered, his voice ragged from being unused to speak. "Anna?"

He gently touched her face, struggling to focus. He wanted to pick her up and cradle her in his arms, but something told him not to. He had to do _something_.

"Help." He croaked weakly. "Help me!"

"Dr. McCoy?" asked a vaguely familiar and startled voice. He heard a faint metallic whirring sound and the still video cameras came back to life. One directly above him reoriented itself on him. "What happened?"

"Please," he croaked. "I hurt her." He choked as the weight of his guilt seized his chest, making him unable to breathe.

The voice was silent for several interminable moments. "I'm on my way down with a medical team."

Hank gasped for air. He wanted so badly to hold her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was. More than anything, he wanted to make her better. He _knew_ that he knew how to make her better too, but his mind simply wouldn't focus. He wanted to rage and scream and cry all at once, but the severity of her need kept him rooted in reality, and he snuffed out those primal urges one by one.

Just as he was beginning to panic, the heavy vault door opened and a woman he knew, but could not name rushed in, followed by several others. "Dr. McCoy, please stand back." The woman commanded.

His heart pounding with worry, Hank fell back and sat crouched on his haunches, watching them quickly and efficiently brace Anna's neck and back and place her on a stretcher. The welter of voices was confusing, though he felt as if he should understand what they were saying. He could feel anger and a violent urge building up inside him, but the sight of Anna limp and unmoving held him, and he clung to that awful image to keep him in the here and now.

As they wheeled her out, he moved to follow. The woman stopped him, and several large orderlies with glowing wands in hand blocked his path. "I'm sorry Dr. McCoy, but you have to remain here."

"Anna," He said, beginning to panic again.

"She'll be alright. But you have to remain confined until we know for sure that you're truly back with us. I know you need to be with her right now, but please understand that I have my other patients to think about as well. I can't risk you having a relapse out in the general population."

Hank wanted to argue, but he knew she was right. If he could hurt Anna, he could hurt anyone. His heart wilted within him and he sank to the floor in tears. The woman spoke quietly to the men behind her, and they left the room.

She crouched down in front of him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "She'll be alright, Dr. McCoy. It looks like she just bumped her head a good one." She paused. "She'll be wanting to see you as soon as she's awake." She squeezed his shoulder bracingly. "Try to stay with us, Hank."

He looked up into her eyes to see that she was smiling encouragingly. "Moira," he said, suddenly remembering. "Thank you, Moira."

She nodded and squeezed his shoulder again before standing up and hurrying out. He watched her go, and could feel the need to remain "human" slipping away with her. His breath quickened, and his heart pounded in his chest. A terrible, dark fury swept over him, leaving him gasping and mewling on the floor like a wounded animal.

"No," he panted. "Anna…I have to..." A sharp, wild urge to lash out, to break things seized him. He pressed his forehead against the cold floor and struggled to maintain his sanity. "For Anna," he whispered. "I have to know she's alright."

He lay on the floor, oblivious to the passing of time as he chanted her name over and over again, battling constantly to suppress his feral instincts. He thought back over the last few weeks, surprised at how clearly he could remember them. With a start, he realized that the reason his memory was so clear is that he wasn't schizophrenic, he was deliberately sinking himself into a feral persona. All that had occurred was a shift in his thinking, and in that realization he found the ability to readjust his thinking and regain his unfamiliar "human" mind.

He sat up and gazed around his cell. His refocused mind took in the disarray, and his heart shriveled within him. Seeing the condition of the room nearly tipped him back over the edge, and he found himself scrabbling to hold on to the precarious perch he'd so recently obtained.

Angry at himself, Hank fell upon his _den_ – he shuddered inwardly at the word – and quickly dismantled it, setting each and every piece in its proper place. The remaining intact furniture was almost weightless to him, and he had to resist the swell of primal joy that rose within him as he marveled at his own strength.

Furniture righted, he moved about the room cleaning up the shattered remains of the dresser and what looked to be a small table from around the room. He shuddered at the memory of the sheer rage he had felt, simply because…

The memory struck him like a kick to the gut, and he had to fight to breathe. The awful memory of what he had been capable of doing to…her…he felt his gorge rising. As the guilt rose up within him, he could feel his grip on reality growing tenuous and further and further out of his grasp.

"Antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, rhenium, nickel, neodymium, neptunium, geranium, iron, americium, ruthenium," He muttered, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration. "Uranium, europium, zirconium…"

The elements were followed by listing all 50 states and their capitals, and then by the countries of the world. Then he recited the Declaration of Independence, Bill of Rights, and the Magna Carta. The mental and verbal exercise succeeded in helping him to maintain his temper, and he was able to finish his cleanup.

That chore complete, he stared around the room, bewildered as to what to do next. His eyes fell upon a stack of books in one corner but he immediately dismissed the idea. He was too keyed up to read, and none of them were of the caliber necessary to interest and distract him.

Hank paces impatiently as he waits for word. He gradually becomes aware of his surroundings. He is disgusted by his own behavior, and several times has to stop to calm himself down. He begins by tearing down his "Cave," and reordering the room as it should be. He then decides to clean himself up. Anna deserves at the very least that much. He finds his shaving bag in the bathroom, and grooms himself, feeling her absence like a terrible weight around his heart. As he steps out of the shower, he realizes that he's been running around naked in front of everyone. He comes out of the bathroom, holding towels around himself and hears the dumbwaiter. In it is a clean set of scrubs , some socks, and a tray of food.

As he is dressing, Moira tells him that Anna's X-rays show that she is suffering from a concussion, but other than that she should be alright. He is so grateful, all he can do is gasp his thanks. She tells him to call out if he needs anything, and she'll see about getting him upstairs to see his wife.

The elevator doors creaked open and he blinked furiously against the bright glare of the hospital's fluorescent lighting. Here the hospital smell was sharp and cutting. The smell of the powerful disinfectant used to sterilize everything razed his nose and lungs with every breath. As he stepped off the elevator, he came face-to-face with a dozen security officers, armed with Tasers.

His ears laid back automatically; he could smell their tension and hostility. A fleeting, arrogant thought flashed through his mind, and he couldn't quite hold back the feral grin. How easy it would be to take them all down…

He shook himself and shuddered against the force of that thought.

"Are you alright, Dr. McCoy?"

He opened his eyes and saw Moira coming out of a room a few yards away. He nodded and took another scorching breath.

"Yes, thank you, Moira. I'm just…a little overwhelmed." He took another deep breath and winced.

She gave him a sympathetic half-smile and beckoned him into the room she'd just come from.

He followed tentatively and ducked through the doorway. The room was small to begin with, and it felt positively tiny to him. The window was open, and a fresh ocean breeze wafted in, cleansing the room of the harsh chemical hospital smell.

The bed was situated beside the window, and looking very small and fragile, Anna lay propped up on several pillows. A fresh wave of guilt threatened to choke him, but he grimly stifled the feeling and padded softly to her bedside.

Moira spoke softly to the guards and firmly shut them out of the room. Hank gently took his wife's little hand in his and unconsciously felt for her pulse. "Has she regained consciousness yet?"

"Briefly, when we were bringing her to her room after x-ray. She was a little groggy but wanted to see you immediately. She was only awake for a few minutes before lapsing back into unconsciousness again." Moira touched his shoulder consolingly. "It's a simple concussion, Hank. She really will be fine."

Hank bowed his head under the weight of relief, guilt, and remorse that swept over him, and he wept softly. Moira stroked his back once and then left to give him some privacy.

He sat for hours at her bedside, holding her hand and waiting patiently for her to wake. Finally, she stirred when he gently kissed her limp hand, and her fingers twitched, weakly grasping his hand.

"Hank." She breathed.

"I'm here, Anna." He said softly through the lump in his throat.

Her brow furrowed and her eyes opened slowly. She blinked as her eyes tried to focus on him, and then gave up with a groan.

"Somebody tell the room to stop spinning," She grumbled uncomfortably.

"Anna," he choked, "I'm _so sorry_…"

She clumsily reached out and tried to lay her hand over his mouth. "Shhhh…" She whispered. "Just kiss me and make it better." She mumbled groggily.

For several days he watched over her carefully. Somehow, caring for her helped him to regain himself, and the old physician's routine came back to him automatically. With borrowed tools from the hospital, he quickly took over the supervision of her care. Anna recovered quickly, with occasional bouts of vertigo, and after the fourth day, he was forced to relent and let her get out of bed for more than just a bathroom break.

She climbed gratefully out of bed and under his watchful eye showered and freshened up. With a distasteful glare at the bed she deliberately crossed the room to dry and brush her hair. Satisfied that she would be there for a few minutes, he hurried into the bathroom and pulled her bottle of inhibitor out of her bag of toiletries and delivered it to her.

She distractedly took the bottle and tucked it between her leg and the arm of the chair. "Later," she said as she carefully stood and took his arm. "I need to get out of this room!"

He chuckled and reached for a robe.

They walked slowly through the hallways and into the sunroom where she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sunlight with a happy smile. She leaned into him and made a contented smile. "Almost perfect," she mumbled. "The only thing that would make this better is if we were _home."_

"Home," he rumbled softly. "It's been a long time."

"Too long," She agreed fervently.

"Anna," He began uncomfortably.

"I know what you're going to say, Hank." She said without opening her eyes. "Don't."

"I…"

"Stop." She growled, facing him squarely. "Just stop it. It's done and over with, and I'm _not _leaving here without you!"

"_Look_ at me, Anna!" He burst out. "I'm not even _human_ anymore! How can I even _think_ of leaving here when I could lose my grip on reality at the slightest provocation?"

"It won't happen again," She insisted.

"Who is to say it won't?" He demanded, exasperated. "If I could hurt you…" His voice failed him and he collapsed into a chair, weeping in remorse. "I'm an animal, Anna! I cannot condemn you to a life full of hatred and humiliation because of me!"

She stepped toward him and swayed dangerously. He flew out of his chair reflexively and caught her as she fell. She had her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers pressed to her temples. "Hank," She said in a sick voice. "You're being melodramatic." She winced and gingerly opened her eyes. "Let's go back to the room, I have something to show you."

More worried about her condition, he decided to stop arguing for the time being. He stood and carried her out of the sunroom.

"Hank," She protested. "I'm alright now. I can walk, you know."

He grunted noncommittally and carried her anyway. As they approached her room, she passed a weary hand over her eyes with a sigh. "I'm really tired. Do you think we can get them to leave me alone for a few hours?"

Hank sat her down on her freshly made bed and hurriedly went to the nurse's station to ask that she not be disturbed for a while. When he came back, he found her rummaging through her suitcase. As he closed the door she turned to him with a familiar folder in her hands.

"When we were first married, I gave you this, and told you that one day I would have you break the seal and open it."

He smiled, despite his mood and took the folder from her. "I remember. You made such a fuss about sealing it in my presence…you said something about it being about the future."

She smiled, pleased. "Open it, please."

Intrigued, he used his thumbnail to tear open the seal. Inside he found several of Anna's drawings. He frowned, unsure at first as to what he was looking at, and then it hit him. They were all done with meticulous attention to detail, colored and shaded with the utmost care. They were all drawings of himself; they were all drawings of him in his current state. He thumbed through them incredulously, unable to believe how closely they resembled him as he was at that very moment.

He stared up at Anna in stunned disbelief. "You…you knew all along…"

She smiled smugly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." She lifted her chin triumphantly. "I still had the hots for you even after your mutation took this turn. She glanced at the pages in his hand. "Actually, my favorites are on the last page."

He flipped slowly through the drawings, astounded by the detail in her work. His breath caught in his chest when he turned to the last page. "Oh, my."

The last page was covered in pencil sketches of the two of them in intimate poses. He swallowed hard and could feel his face burning. The images she had drawn were compelling and his body was responding automatically. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and breathed in a familiar and irresistible scent.

He slowly raised his eyes and watched as Anna slowly pulled her hospital gown over her head and stood naked in front of him. He stared at her, his conscience warring with his burning desire for her.

He spotted the bottle of inhibitor still sitting on the chair and he growled at her. "Cheater." He accused.

She sauntered over to him and pressed herself against him. "Just hedging my bets a little." She breathed as she stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The folder and its contents fell forgotten to the floor. Unable to resist, he laid his hands on her bare back and kissed her.

"I shouldn't…" He murmured against her lips

"Henry," She panted. "Shut up and put out."

He couldn't help but to laugh and give in.

The cool ocean breeze blew in through her open windows, bringing a fresh, clean scent and cooling her sweating brow. She blew absently at a stray lock of her hair that kept falling into her face as she meticulously perused everything found at Gordon Lefferts' hidden laboratory. It seemed like a futile endeavor, but she _knew_ that there had to be something, _anything_, here that would give her a hint as to what happened to him.

She cleared her throat and sat back in her chair, throwing the notebook she'd been reading into the box of rubbish at her feet. Nothing!

"Why is it so bloody hot in here?" She groaned, passing a hand across her forehead. She rose and pulled off her lab coat. She was surprised to find her shirt soaked in several places and sticking to her. "What on earth?"

She glanced at her watch. There was still two hours left before she was due back at the research lab. Plenty of time for a shower and a change of clothes.

She cleared her scratchy throat again, noticing for the first time how uncomfortable it was to swallow. "Great," She muttered darkly. "A cold. Just what I need right now." She hurried into her private restroom, pulling off her sweaty clothes as she went. She rummaged through her medicine cabinet and popped a thermometer into her mouth while she started her shower.

She sat on the bog, enjoying the cooler air on her heated skin. The thermometer beeped and she glanced at it.

"102.4! Good lord!" The flu then. Marvelous. She hunted through her cabinet and pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and popped a couple. She climbed gratefully into the shower and let the cool water wash over her. She scrubbed herself thoroughly but quickly and toweled off, noticing the ache developing in her neck and back. She massaged her neck and prayed that the ibuprofen would kick in soon.

She rubbed a towel across the mirror to clear the fog and frowned at her reflection. There was a small shadow on her cheek that she hadn't noticed before. She leaned in for a closer look and noticed a dark shadow across her collarbone.

"No," she breathed, going suddenly cold. She knew these symptoms. She swallowed hard, the scratchiness of her throat suddenly much more ominous than it had been a quarter of an hour ago.


	21. But One Life to Give

The compound was dark, everyone – save those who worked the graveyard shift – had long since sought their beds in the hope that somehow sleep could ease the worry and fear that was the constant companion of all who lived in this sad place.

Piotr crept silently through the orderly ranks of tents and outbuildings that housed the sick and dying of Genoshia Island, and headed straight for the low building that housed the cluttered laboratories where doctors, geneticists and scientists from all over the world studied the so-called Legacy virus.

He ground his teeth together against the impotent fury that burned inside him. He would no longer sit idly by and watch as everyone around him sickened and died from that damned bug. Losing Iliana had crushed him, but caring for Eric Lenshire had helped him to rebuild himself, and to prepare him to do all he could to fight this evil virus.

He had left the dying old mutant in the care of the Acolytes and come to Genoshia because here is where Dr. McCoy was. Since the accidental death of Moira MacTaggart, _He_ was now the foremost authority on the Legacy Virus, and Piotr was going to help in every way he could.

He knew that Dr. McCoy would be in the lab this late, and he would be alone. It was Piotr's only chance to speak with the radically changed Doctor privately. Finding the door unlocked, he marched right in.

As he approached, he could hear voices from within the main lab. He silently dodged into a darkened adjoining room to wait for his chance to speak to the Doctor alone.

"…the only way." Came Dr. McCoy's familiar rumble. "The antivirus _must_ be absorbed and reproduced by a living mutant."

"But why you Hank?" Cried a woman whose voice Piotr recognized as the doctor's wife. "Why are you so quick to experiment on yourself? You of all people know how dangerous this is!"

Piotr noticed a gap in the blinks that allowed him to peek into the nest room. Dr. McCoy and his wife were sitting next to a metal table, facing one another. Lying between them on a small metal tray was a syringe.

Dr. McCoy sighed and gently laid his hand atop the metal tray. "I cannot ask someone else to do this, Anna." He said quietly. "It's too much to ask."

She seized his wrist. "There _has_ to be another way!," She wailed with tears streaming down her cheeks. "You can't do this Hank! You just can't do this! What if it doesn't work? What if you die? Who knows this damned virus as well as you do? Who could possibly continue the research then?"

McCoy released the syringe and took her face tenderly between his massive hands.

"Whom would you rather take my place, Anna? Logan? Piotr? Marie? Which of our friends would you ask to make this sacrifice?"

She collapsed into his arms with a heart-wrenching sob. The hulking scientist enfolded his tiny wife in his great arms and they wept together.

Piotr swallowed the lump in his throat. Iliana's little face, deathly pale as she too her final breath, filled his mind, and he struggled to choke back a sob. How could Dr. McCoy even consider doing such a thing! How could he so easily decide to take his own life and leave his wife behind to suffer? Piotr's own pain cried out against the thought of anyone suffering as he did.

His musings were interrupted when the McCoys spoke again. He bent to peek through the blinds.

"Will you stay with me?" McCoy asked his wife in a small, timid voice.

Anna sniffed loudly. "What? Tonight? Now?" She moaned.

"There's no point in prolonging the inevitable," He replied in a heavy voice.

"No!" She wailed, clutching at him again. "Please! Can't we hold off for a few days? Don't I get a few days to say goodbye?"

"My Love, there are too many who are sick and dying. They won't last a few days." He had the syringe in his hand again.

"So they get your life while I get nothing?" She cried desperately. "Please, Hank! At least give me tonight!"

They stared at one another for a long time, and then slowly, McCoy lowered the syringe to the tray.

"Alright," He breathed in acquiescence. He took her into his arms again. "And tomorrow, will you stay with me?" He pleaded quietly.

She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed her assent. Wit his own eyes streaming tears, he kissed her long and hard. With one arm, he picked her up and with the other he moved the tray and syringe into a tiny table top refrigerator. Without looking back, he carried his mourning wife out of the lab and locked the door behind him, sealing Piotr inside.

It was nearly dawn, and his ppoor anna had finally succumbed to a fitful sleep. Even in repose, her lovely face was filled with sorrow. He had sworn to never again cause her pain after that terrible month following the attacks on the team's families, and he was filled with guilt and remorse for having to break that promise to her.

As he reflected on his decision, he realized that he couldn't put her through watching as he took his own life. It was a tremendously selfish thing to hope for, and even more monstrous of him to even ask.

Resolved to do what he felt was necessary, he gently kissed his sleeping wife and crept silently out of bed. He stopped only long enough to write her a brief letter of apology and an affirmation of his love, which he left on the nightstand for her to find in the morning.

His mind was remarkably clear as he made his way through the darkened hallway to the lab. He would need to install an IV, and ie would have to be sure to notify someone just before he injected himself so that they could lose no time in testing for and then harvesting the cure.

As he approached the lab, he saw that there was a light on inside. Puzzled and revising his plan, he unlocked the door and strode in.

As he entered the main lab, he was shocked to find young Piotr sitting where he and Anna had been just a few hours ago. And in the young man's fist was clenched the syringe with the anti-virus. A peaceful smile spread over his handsome features.

"I will take up this burden , Dr. McCoy. I am strong, and so the cure will be strong, too." A flash of pain shot across his features. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. "I am lost without Iliana, and your wife will be even more lost without you. I can't let her suffer like I have." Piotr's eyes glazed over, and he sucked in a deep breath.

McCoy leaped forward. "No! Wait!"

Grimly, Piotr plunged the needle into his thigh and injected himself. Too late, Hank snatched the syringe out of the doomed mutant's hand. He stared at the now empty syringe and the young man in horror.

"Why, Piotr?" He whispered gruffly.

Piotr's eyes became haunted, and the deep, abiding sorrow he felt was clearly reflected in his countenance. "I failed her, Dr. McCoy." He breathed in a tortured whisper. "She cried out to me to save her, and I brought her to the place that killed her." His voice broke and a single tear coursed down his cheek to disappear into the dark line of two-day long stubble along his jaw. "I cannot stand by, for even one more hour, while somewhere, someone else's little sister is dying of this disease."

He glanced up at the older mutant with a stern frown. "But _you_ Doctor. You have much to live for. You were wrong to try to do this. You have a wife who loves and needs you. You have a responsibility to the rest of the world to cure this evil plague. If this anti-virus doesn't work, your sacrifice would have been in vain, and the real cure would have been delayed until someone could learn it as you know it. How many thousands or _millions_ would have died, all because you were too cowardly to ask someone to make this sacrifice?"

Hank stared at him, unable to think of what to say. He was right. The realization of the full gravity of his foolish and thoughtless decision settled upon his conscience with an unbearable weight. The thought of millions of people sick and dying and ultimately untreated because the foremost expert on the thing killing them had once again foolishly used himself as a guinea pig, made him sick to his stomach. When he thought of Moira, the first normal human victim of the Legacy Virus, he was staggered by the sheer magnitude of the damage any delay would cause. Yet despite his stunning revelation, he still could not fathom asking someone else to sacrifice his or her life. It was unthinkable.

"Son, I…"

Piotr's jaw clenched, and his breathing sped up. "Снежинка Я прихожу домой. (Snowflake, I am coming home."

"Piotr! NO!"

With a grunt, the handsome young man transformed into the mighty, gleaming Colossus. Half a heartbeat later, he jerked spasmodically and fell forward over the table. His skin became a mottled patina of his steel and normal skin. Hank leaped over the table as the striken young man toppled to the floor.

Frightened by the speed at which the anti-virus tore through his teammate's body, he shuddered to think that ten minutes ago, he'd been hell bent on doing this to himself. He swept the convulsing young hero into his arms and ran for the ICU.

She awoke with a violent start, confused and scared. The sun was shining thin bands of sunlight across the otherwise empty beed through the makeshift blinds over the windows. The source of her fear was slow to dawn on her, and slammed down on her consciousness like a ton of bricks the moment her eyes fell upon the folded piece of paper on the nightstand.

"No," She gasped. "He wouldn't!"

With her heart in her throat, she reached out and picked up the note. Her hands shook so badly, that she almost couldn't read what was on the page. Her eyes scanned the page and her growing sense of dread quickly became full-blown horror. Without thinking, she threw on a bathrobe and ran out of the bedroom as if the deil himself was after her.

She tore through the complex, heedless of the startled stares that followed her half-najed flight through the makeshift blinded by tears, she burst into the lab only to find it empty. Her eyes fell upon the askew table and overturned stools. She stumbled weakly against the table and stepped on something.

Numbly she crouched to retrieve it, and held it up before her unseeing eyes, only to drop it the moment she realized what exactly it was.

The syringe!

She clapped her hand over her mouth and almost vomited. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat with a choked sob and watched as it rolled across the floor and came to a stop in a beam of sunlight. The cursed thing gleamed up at her evilly and she lurched away from it as if it would rear up at any moment and bite her.

She whimpered in desperate fear and stubborn refusal to believe it could be true. She shook her head in denial, yet bolted for the ICU. She knew that he'd not have much time, and she'd already lost too much.

"Damn you, Hank!" She wailed as she fled from the spent syringe.

Exhausted and beyond hope, Henry Phillip McCoy quietly left the bedside of the man who was far too young to die. Piotr's labored breathing had been eased enough to allow him to sleep, but his body was still being ravaged by a terrible fever that no amount of medication or cooling could lower. The only ray of sunlight in his terrible ordeal lay in the sudden reversal of the virus in the other patients dying in the ICU.

Pushed almost beyond his own endurance, the sorrowing doctor left the bedside of his young teammate in search of fresh air. He slipped out into the late-morning sunlight and let the heat wash across his weary brow.

From the direction of the laboratory came the sound of running feet. He turned toward the sound to see Anna skid to a halt a few yards away, wearing only his bathrobe. Her expression was torn between hope, despair and stunned disbelief, and her eyes were streaming tears.

Anna!

In the chaos surrounding Piotr's illness, he'd forgotten all about the note whereon he'd inscribed his final farewell. Kicking himself for being an idiot, he hurried over to comfort her.

He never saw it coming.

As he bent to enfold her in his arms, she pulled back her hand and slapped him full across the face. He shook his head, stunned momentarily, and was nearly bowled over when she tackled him and buried her faces in his chest.

"You _stupid_ sonofabitch!" She bawled into his shirt.

A bizarre mix of relief and guilt swept oer him and he held her to him for dear life. Words failed him and all he could manage was "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," over and over again as their bodies shook with the intensity of their swirling emotions.

It took them a long time to come to their senses. Drying her eyes on the sleeve of his bathrobe, she brought them both back to the present.

"Where is Piotr?"

Hank pulled out his hankie and wiped at his nose. "He's just inside the…" He began with a gesture to the ICU. Then the impact of her question registered on his foggy mind and he went cold inside. A terrible suspicion welled up in him and he stopped to stare at her.

"You _knew_?" He whispered.

"The moment I saw you alive and well," She affirmed softly.

The implication of her confirmation horrified him. His exhausted brain simply would not accept this latest revelation and he felt suddenly dizzy and disoriented. Unconsciously he backed a step away from her.

As if she could hear his thoughts, she answered his fears. "No, Hank. I didn't know how it as going to happen. I knew that it was likely to happen this way, but I didn't know for sure. I didn't force you to delay just so he could die in your place. She lowered her eyes and shuddered


End file.
